


Off Day

by fictive_frolic



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Cancer, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub, Domestic Fluff, F/M, First Time, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Mutual Pining, OC characters to flesh out the story, PTSD, Past Abuse, Pining, Self-Harm, Smut, Suicide mention, Unplanned Pregnancy, almost kink, biker!AU, meet cute, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 01:40:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 45,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21595486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictive_frolic/pseuds/fictive_frolic
Summary: Bucky is looking for a respite from an awful day. He doesn't expect his day to get so much worse.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader, Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Comments: 64
Kudos: 281





	1. Chapter 1

Bucky Barnes was having a bad day. Everything on the new build was going wrong. Parts were delayed, Steve and Tony were at each other’s throats. Aided and abetter by Natasha telling them to just fuck and get it over with. It gave him a headache.

The whole day had culminated in him needing to straight-up walk out of the shop and roar down the street, probably breaking several city noise ordinances. It felt good. It felt better roaring down the street with a breeze carding through his hair. He wished there was a long backroad near here, but that was the problem with cities. No long tree-lined lanes to ride down startling cows. Still. It helped clear the cobwebs.

Downtown was always nice this time of year. Treelined streets bedecked in the best fall colors, jewel tones and warm browns that made him start daydreaming about his ma’s pumpkin pie and Sam’s deep-fried turkey. He parked his bike in it’s usual spot down the road and started walking. He’d not rambled through the tourist trap warren of the Villiage in a minute. Just a few blocks from the University it was currently awash with stressed-out college kids and a handful of professors snagging a drink at a bar between classes. 

He found a likely little spot, a little book shop next to a cafe with a sign about it reading “White Rabbit Books and Cafe” He liked book stores that weren’t chains. And coffee that wasn’t Starbucks. And the little shop, white painted brick covered in ivy and a bay window with old glass displaying some strangely endearing art for sale from local artists and a handful of unique books for sale. He smiled a little and strode towards the shop, shoving his hands in his pockets. Maybe he could find a Christmas present for someone. Get a head start. 

The door jangled pleasantly, with real bells and not electronic screaming and real wood boards creaked under his heavy boots. Behind the desk, there’s a girl, pretty sandaled feet propped up, idly twisting a lock of hair around her finger as she reads the rather large book propped up on her knees. He clears his throat and she looks up, smiling, “Sorry,” she said blushing, “I just got to the good part.”

“Ooo,” he teased, “Racy things huh?”

“Murder,” she said blandly, blinking at him as if it should be obvious.

It took Bucky a moment. He couldn’t tell if you were teasing him or not. It was fun. He liked it. He decided he liked you. You smile and Bucky snorts, “Alright, I deserved that.” Before you can answer, a meow attracts the Biker’s attention. 

He looks down at the black cat sitting primly on the floor her tail curled around her paws, “Shop Cat?” Bucky asked, kneeling to stroke her soft fur.

“Her name is Salem,” you say fondly, “She gets anxiety when I leave her home alone.”

“You got a name, Doll?” He asked looking up with his most charming smile as you lean up on the counter to watch them.

“Y/N,” you answer, “Y/N Y/L/N.” 

“This your shop?” he asked standing up and looking around.

You nod, “Sort of,” you answer, “I took it over from my cousin for a while.”

“So you’re new in town?” he asked.

“I grew up here,” you correct gently, “I just haven’t been home in a while.”

Bucky nods and watches you stroke your cat’s fur affectionately when she settled into her basket, perfectly placed in a sunbeam.

“You wouldn’t happen to have a book for a girl who likes motorcycles and knives, would you?” he asked looking around.

You smile, “Surprisingly, I think I have just the thing. Come with me,” you tell him jerking your head towards a wood beaded curtain.

You lead him through a rabbit warren of shelves of books. He had to duck through a low doorway and for a moment, he really really wanted you to be leading him to a velvet-covered sofa he could steal a kiss on and push that long cotton skirt out of the way. Still, he’s not disappointed when you pull a book from a shelf and hold it out to him. It looks like Natasha. It really does. He smiles and takes it from your hand, looking it over.

“You know,” he said, this might be perfect.

“Is it for a birthday?” you ask, blushing slightly and adjusting your glasses. Bucky feels his heart skip a beat. You’re flirting. Well. Deciding whether or not to flirt with him.

“Christmas,” he said, “Just getting a head start.” 

He watches a flicker of disappointment in your face and smiles just a little. Oh my god. You’re so soft. “Natasha is a friend of mine,” he said, “A bad ass chick… But if we buy her any more knives we’re gonna wind up on an FBI watch list or something.”

You smile a little, “That would be a problem.”

Bucky takes a moment, looking into your soft bright eyes and he melts just a little. He’d forgotten, hanging out with his club and chasing the tough girls that could break him and drank whiskey and tequila like it was water. He kinda missed soft girls. The kind of girls he was always too scared to ask out in High School. The kind of girls that knew how to knit and did academic team. Sweethearts that made cookies for their friends and spent lunch hiding in the library to read. Girls that didn’t know anything about how to throw a punch. Girls that he was always afraid would turn him down. So he never talked to them. He’d tease them, sure. Make them blush. But he’d not have ever dreamed of dating one. The wild girls who liked to party were more his speed. 

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I don’t think I’d do too hot in prison.”

“No,” you say smiling, leading him back to the front of the shop, “I don’t think you would either.”

You ring up his purchase and tell him the total, $12.67 and he hands you a Twenty. “You know anything about the Cafe next door?” he asked.

You smile, “I like their Chair Lattes,” you tell him. “And I’ve heard good things about their cold brew and their house roast.”

Bucky nods, “I’ll have to check them out, thanks, Doll,” he said giving you his most charming smile. You blush and look away shyly and he picks up a card off the counter, slipping it into his book before giving you a wink and walking out the door. 

He felt better as he wandered back to his bike. Making a pretty girl blush always made him feel better. Wide soft eyes and softer looking lips were always enhanced so much by rosy tinted cheeks. He liked it. He was pretty sure he liked you, too. 

“Looks like they’re all getting books for Christmas,” he muttered, smiling to himself. And Birthdays and because it’s Tuesday. Anything to make his way back to your cozy little shop a few times a week.

________

Bucky strolled back into the Garage and tossed the brown wrapped book into Natasha’s lap. “What’s this?” she asked, untying the string.

“Consider it a thank you for telling Steve and Tony to just fuck,” He said helping himself to a beer and dropping into his camp chair. 

“Ooo,” she said, “I’ve been wanting to read this. Where’d you find it?”

“A shop in downtown,” he said, cheeks coloring a little.

“Isn’t the girl that owns it like dying or something?” Natasha asked stretching.

“I dunno. It was her cousin running it today,” he said, “Said she took it over for a while.”

Nat frowned, “Well hopefully she can pull it out of the hole. I know Kaitlyn Ross damn near lost her shirt trying to keep the place when Hiatt’s started buying up all the indie shops in downtown.”

“How do you know all this?” Bucky asked laughing, taking a pull of his beer.

The redhead shrugged, “Hiatt was sniffing around looking at buying the liquor store across the street. Wanting to put in some pussified wine bar or something to cater to all the college lemmings. I ran into Kaity at the post office when I went to pick up the mail and she filled in some more blanks. But this was a couple months ago before her diagnosis.”

“What put her down?” Bucky asked. 

“Leukemia,” Nat answered, “I should pop in and see the cousin. See how she’s doing. Which cousin even is it? Kaity has like 83 shit million cousins.”

“Y/N,” Bucky said cautiously.

“Y/L/N?” Nat asked.

“Yeah,” Bucky said, a feeling of impending dread coiling in the pit of his stomach. He’d had better feelings walking outgunned into an enemy camp. He’d seen bike crashes that didn’t make him go cold all over like watching Natasha’s eyes go wide.

“No way!” Nat gasped slapping her hand over her mouth. “Did she punch you in the mouth? Please tell me she hit you in the mouth.”

“Nat- what?” he stuttered, pieces falling into place. Big soft eyes. Not having to ask for his name. Moments of disappointment. Not- not because he was in a relationship but because he hadn’t recognized you. 

“You fucking stood her up for prom to go get drunk with Steve at a fucking bike rally,” she said. Nat threw the nearest thing, the book at him, narrowly on purpose missing his head. “The poor kid was so humiliated that Monday she never back to school. She straight just fucked off to Arizona or something and joined an Art colony.”

Bucky groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose, “I don’t even remember asking her,” he said.

“I know,” Steve said strolling into the garage and picking up the thrown book. “You got black out drunk and Billy Thompson’s last house party and basically sprawled out across her lap and begged her to go with you like. The day before. Then in the morning, we went to Sturgis and that was it. Like I asked you and you looked at me like I was crazy.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, killing his beer. This was definitely an off day. This called for something stronger than Beer. He needed to find the Jack.


	2. Chapter 2

In the morning through the cotton-mouthed haze of a hangover, Bucky Barnes was vaguely aware that he needed to find you. He needed to find you. Apologize. And beg you to let him make it up to you. Even if it had been 8 years. Maybe if he apologized profusely enough you’d let him throw you on a bed and tear your clothes off.

He knew he was probably never going to live down the fool that he had made of himself last night, waxing poetic for hours about the shape of your lips and how enamored he was with the thought of seeing you naked. He’d actually gotten himself cut off and Steve had had to take him home. It had been a long time since that had happened. Even Char his on again off again fling, the one who usually fed him shots, like he was a freshman at a kegger, had gotten irritated at him. 

He didn’t take his bike into town. His head was pounding and he didn’t think he could take the noise. Or the rattling of all the bones in his skull. Still, he rolled into town and pulled into an empty parking place. 

Now that he remembered you, he felt like punching himself in the face. You’d been quiet. You liked to stay in the background. Like a lot of families, yours had been poor. Really poor. And like a lot of other families one or both of your parents was often arrested for some drug-related offense. He’d known then that you made the rounds, being passed between family members to keep you out of the system. He remembered liking you. A lot. You’d been the soft girl he’d wanted to date the most. You helped him in class sometimes. Muttering answers from a desk next to his or explaining something when he’d been too busy doing anything else to pay attention. After Prom weekend, when you never came back to school, someone had started a rumor that you’d gone to rehab. Someone else said that you’d got knocked up and your family shipped you to a relative in Kansas or something to avoid having to deal with another mouth to feed. So Bucky had pushed you out of his head. He didn’t fuck with drugs. Or kids. He enlisted to get out of town and lost himself in a haze of following orders and bullets flying. At least until it all got to be too much. Until he’d been broken enough that even the Army couldn’t overlook it. So an Honorable discharge had brought him home. 

He watched you for a second. You had a lunch pail in your hand. A vintage metal lunch box with Scooby and the Gang on it. In the other hand, you held a leash. Salem scurried along next to you, very intent on getting out of the morning chill and into her nice warm basket on the counter. Bucky smiled just a little. You look distracted, like you’re thinking about your plan for the day. 

He gets out of the car and shuts the door gently, “Y/N?” he called, making you stop, key halfway in the lock of the front door. You sigh and turn slowly, “Hey, Bucky,” you greet him. You look tired up close; like you hadn’t slept well.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. 

“For what?” you ask confused.

“St-st-standing you up,” he said blushing, “I didn’t. I mean. I probably meant it. I just- I mean. I probably meant asking. I just didn’t. Didn’t remember.”

“Bucky,” you tell him, shaking your head, “I knew when you asked it was too good to be true. But I thought maybe, just maybe. For once. Someone actually saw me. It’s fine. I’m not angry at you. And no. You aren’t the reason I never came back to school.”

You push the door to the shop open firmly and step inside. Bucky follows you, not sure what else to do.

“I always saw you,” he murmured.

You shake your head and look away, busying yourself with getting the register ready, “No. You didn’t. And that’s okay. I’m not angry at you. You didn’t ruin my life or something. It was just prom. It wasn’t important.” Bucky watches you and he doesn’t miss the tear drop that hits the counter.

His stomach twists unpleasantly and all he wants is to pull you against his chest. “Where’d you go?” he asked softly.

“When?” you answer, swallowing hard.

“When you didn’t come back. All I ever heard was rumors,” he said.

You sigh, “Joined an Art Colony in Vermont for a while while I was in college. Then did Peace Corps for a while. And I taught school for a few months in Alaska. None of that is probably near as exciting as whatever the rumors were.”

Bucky smiled a little, “Knocked up or went to rehab,” he clarified, “sometimes both.”

You snort, “Look,” you say wiping away frustrated tears, “If you came here to soothe some latent sense of guilt, consider yourself absolved. I should have known better than to show up. Especially after you told me you loved me in the drive way.”

Bucky stopped, “ I- I what?” he asked.

You shake your head, “It was stupid. You were completely wasted. Absolutely trashed. You insisted that you were gonna walk me to my car and then you just started spewing all this shit about being in love with me since Kindergarten. You were gonna take care of me and it was all gonna be okay.” You snort, “I was mostly sober but. I was 17 and sad. My dad was back in jail. I’d only come to that party to eat something that wasn’t ramen… I knew you didn’t really mean it. But damn did you make it sound really good. If you’d been sober you probably could have gotten my virginity too instead of just my first kiss.”

“I’m sorry, Doll,” he said softly. If he wasn’t sorry before, he was then. Sorry that he hadn’t followed through. Sorry you thought he didn’t mean it. Sorry he was hurting you now trying to soothe his own sense of guilt.

“I knew it was stupid,” you repeat, “You had to beat girls off with a stick. Probably still do. But you just said anything I could have ever wanted a boy to say to me. I was stupid. And a little drunk. It let me forget for just a second that I’m not the kind of girl that that happens to because that doesn’t happen to anyone in real life. And if it does, it’s probably not real.”

“Doll-” he started. 

“Look, Bucky,” you tell him, “I meant what I said. I’m not mad at you. I’ve never told anyone. So it’s not like you have any retribution coming. I’m just here for Kaity. Until she can take the store back over or,” you pause swallowing hard, “Or she can’t. After that I’m gonna leave this hell hole and probably never come back. And besides, it’s not like we really have friends in common. Your reputation will remain firmly intact.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, watching the tears threatening to fall even as you tell him it’s fine and nothing is wrong and all is forgiven. He believes that you forgive him. What he doesn’t believe is that you’re fine.

“Fuck my reputation,” he snorted, “Half the town thinks I run drugs out of my bike shop. All- all I want Doll is to make it up to you. I acted like a jack ass. Please. At least let me buy you a drink or something.”

“I don’t drink,” you say quietly. 

Bucky stops and nods, “Come out with us anyway… I promise. No one will ride your ass if all you want is a pop. At least not for too long.”

You sigh, “Okay. One. One and then we’re done. I don’t wanna keep talking about this. I’m pretty sure I’d rather slit my wrists than even be in town but, I couldn’t tell Kaity no.”

He nods, “I’ll pick you up at 8?” he said cautiously, feeling like he was in high school again.

“No thank you,” you tell him, “I’ll drive myself.”

“Scared to get on a bike?” he teased.

“No, I just don’t want to have to walk home in the cold if my ride gets too drunk to drive,” you answer practically. 

He winces internally but nods, watching for a second as you turn to put your lunch pail on a shelf above the counter with your purse. You sleeve rides up just enough that he can see a few inches of skin on your wrist, and the accompanying scars indicating that at some point, you’d not wanted to keep going anymore. He swallows hard and forces himself not to say anything. But in the back of his mind, a few foggy pieces of memory floated back. 

The stitches and gauze on your arm you’d been trying to hide. Him grabbing your face in his hands and pleading with you not to do that again. Telling you he loved you and he was gonna make it okay. 

He really did feel sick then. “I’m not gonna drink, Y/N,” he said, “Not. Not while you’re with me.”

“Okay,” you say, settling into your chair and smiling over his shoulder at the people walking in. 

“I’ll- I’ll get out of your hair,” he said, “But you’ll come by at 8? Nat’s gonna run the bar… She’ll. She’ll fix you up.” He slips out then and walks back to his car, feeling like a piece of shit. He’d hurt you. He hadn’t meant to, but he’d still done it. Acted like an ass and just left. He wanted to run back in that shop and kiss you stupid. Tell you he really had been in love with you since Kindergarten. That he’d started liking your blue hair bow and he liked your sparkly shoes. That you could run really fast. That he thought you were the smartest, prettiest girl he knew. That he always noticed when you weren’t in class for a few days after someone went to jail. That you never ate lunch. Or really had friends. You had people you talked to. But no one knew you. You seemed to want to be invisible. But that when you smiled at him, even if it was just a shy hello in homeroom, he’d have given his left nut to make you do it again if you’d ever look up from your book.

Buky pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed Nat.

“Romanoff,” he answered, sounding a little out of breath.

“Nat, I need a favor,” he said.

“Jesus Fuck,” she groaned, “What now?”

“I talked Y/N into coming for a drink… when she orders a pop. Don’t. Don’t let the boys make fun of her.” he said. 

“Why would I let them make fun of her?” she said, “They all went to school with us, Buck. Or heard enough local stories to know what happened. I mean shit. It was the biggest fucking wreck in the county. Ain’t nobody gonna want to drink after that.”

Bucky sighed, “I mean I know she’d already left town but… That was still her old man. Just outta jail too.”

Nat made a non commital sound, “Yeah, but he knew what he was getting into with Rumlow’s crew. Still… Y/N’s good. Best thing she ever did was get outta here… If she had married you she’d have 4 kids and be livin’ in that little shack you have the gall to call a house.”

“How?” Bucky started.

“Steve,” Nat answered, “You apprently got real sad about the idea you didn’t get to marry her after graduation when you visited the little boys room.”

“I’ve gotta stop fucking drinking,” he groaned.

“Yeah you do. Char’s Fucking pissed off, by the way. You better tell Y/N to watch her fucking back. Char’s liable to stick a knife in it,” she said, “Not that I’d let that happen. Y/N is soft as hell but Char’s a goddamn tragedy. Jealousy is a fucking ugly color.”

Bucky groaned again and thudded his head against the steering wheel. Char. The best lay and worst decision he’d ever had. The woman was dynamite in the sack but damn was she the jealous type. His ma hated her. Nat hated her. Hell. Sometimes Bucky hated her. But at least fucking her drowned out all his other demons for a while. She might be trying to get at Barton right now to make him jealous but Bucky didn’t doubt for a second that that would change as soon as you walked in. He hung up when Nat started laughing at him and sighed. 

“I gotta stop drinking,” he groaned, thankful that he’d already promised you he wouldn’t drink while you were with him.


	3. Chapter 3

It was only a little after six and Bucky had changed his shirt four times. It felt like he’d touched a live wire and he couldn’t sit still. You weren’t even coming to his house and he’d still changed the sheets, did the dishes and made sure the floors were swept. He hadn’t felt this way in a long time. 

Not even when he and Char first started dancing around each other. Hell. He’d met her still covered in grease and sweat from days in the shop. They’d had sex like that. He didn’t care. He was hardly ever sober when he met with her. He knew he wasn’t the only person Char was sleeping with. The girl had an eye for bikers, bad boys, and people you didn’t want to take home to your mom. Not that he cared. The only reason Char had met his mom was that his mom had walked in on them once. Once. His Ma got a lot better about calling after that. 

As he watched the time tick down he eyed the bottle on the counter for a second before smacking the back of his hand. Alcohol had gotten him into this mess and it probably wouldn’t be what was going to get him out of it. He didn’t think he could make you fall in love with him. He really didn’t. He just. He wanted to- well. To be be honest, he didn’t know what he wanted. You, he guessed. He wanted you. In any way he could have you. Even if it meant as a friend. Even if it meant this is all he got. 

By the time he left the house, several pep talks and several more shirt changes later, he walked down the steps. He loped to his bike and started it, winding his way to the club. It’s 7:15pm and it’s early. Bucky is never early, but it’ll give him time to scope the place out. Threaten Sam and Tony with bodily harm if they ride your ass about anything and maybe, just maybe, keep himself from sweeping a hole in his floor. In front, he saw Char’s car and groaned internally. He considered taking a lap around the block but thought better of it. Maybe, just maybe, if he could have it out with her before you got there, he’d be able to avoid her trying to fight you or something. He knew Char wasn’t about that life. He knew the woman would die if she ever broke a nail. What he didn’t know was you. But his Ma had always told him still waters ran deep. And he knew how you grew up. He didn’t doubt you could hold your own if you needed to. He’d just prefer you not have to.

He ducked in through the side door, going to talk to Natasha before he talked to the others. Everyone assumed he and Steve ran the show and they were dead fucking wrong. Nat had her finger on the pulse and coordinated all their shit. Like it was nothing. She knew everyone. He wanted to know what she knew. If she knew anything about how sick Kaitlyn really was. How long you might be in town. 

“Barnes you fucking asshole,” an all too familiar voice shrilled at him.

“Like a fucking tea kettle,” he muttered, turning. “Sugar,” he said louder, “As much as I’d love to hear about how mad you are at me for last night, just know. I don’t care.”

She reeled back to slap him and Bucky caught her wrist easily, “That’s a little unnecessary, given you being up Barton’s ass for the last week.”

“Fuck you,” she gasped, “Are you really just dragging that trash in here to make me jealous?”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Bucky snorted, “I’ve known Y/N a long fucking time. I’m just catching up with an old friend.”

“An old friend you want to fuck,” she hissed.

“So what if I do?” he challenged, “It’s not like you’re not trying to get it in with like three of the drug dealers in town when you’re not fucking me.”

“Who said?” she pouted.

“Who hasn’t is a shorter list.”

“Aww, Buckaroo,” she said, instantly coquettish and batting her eyes when she realized that shouting wasn’t getting her her way, “You know you’re the only one that matters.”

Bucky cringed internally at the infantilization of his nickname, “Look, Char. She’s coming to get a drink. We’re going to talk. In private. And you’re going to reign in your crazy bitch syndrome until she leaves.”

Char makes a sound reminiscent of a cat being strangled and stomps her foot before flouncing out of the backroom and slamming the front door behind her.

“Hey Buckaroo,” Sam drawled, leaning against the door frame, “Tell me this new one at least a decent human being?”

Bucky sighed, “She’s... She’s Y/N,” he says, “she’s fucking soft. But... well I guess if it tells you anything, Nat likes her.” Bucky feels like a heel not being able to put you into words but he knows Sam’s heard everything he needs to know when the other man nods tacit approval. 

“So,” the other man said, “You gonna get it in tonight?”

“Shit. I’ll be thrilled if she fucking shows up. After all the shit I pulled last time I saw her I really. Really don’t deserve it.”

“That bad huh?” 

Bucky nods, “I just. It’d take hours to explain just, I mean. I’ve known her since Kindergarten. And last time I saw her. Well. I wasn’t at my best.”

“How drunk were you?”

“I asked her to prom. Then forgot and went with Steve to a rally.”

Sam’s mouth fell open and he gaped at Bucky for a second, “Did she hit you? Because I woulda hit you.”

“I wish she would have,” Bucky said rubbing the back of his neck. 

Sam whistled, “Well, if she ain’t hit you, I might. Prom. Really?”

“She’s pretty okay? She’s really pretty and I couldn’t talk to her sober!”

“Fucking marshmallow guts man,” Sam said shaking his head. 

Bucky shrugged. He didn’t mind being soft for you. Not like he had when he was young. “Do me a favor?” Bucky said quietly.

“What’s up?” Sam said stretching.

“Y/N doesn’t really drink,” he explained, “her dad was the cause of a pretty gnarly wreck a few years ago.”

“Oh shit,” Sam said, “The wreck? The one with Rumlow’s crew where they lost all those drugs?”

Bucky nodded grimly and Sam hissed, “So don’t ride her ass about ordering not alcohol. Got it.”

“Thanks, man.”

“I’m not the asshole here, Barnes.”

The asshole in question flipped his friend off casually and strolled through the hallway into the main room of the bar. Natasha was already back there serving Steve the first of his after-work shots.

“There’s the man of the hour,” Steve said, raising his shot in toast before taking it. “Did you get liquored up first or is that going to happen when she shows up?”

“Fuck you,” he said taking his usual stool, “I promised I wouldn’t drink. Not while she’s here anyway.”

“Smart move,” Nat said, “Might keep Kaity from shooting you next time she sees you.”

“Nat-” Bucky said accusingly.

“I ain’t say shit,” Nat explained, “But Y/N did. Not that I blame her after you walked into her shop and started all this shit yesterday.”

Bucky groaned and Nat just shrugged, “I mean. They live together. Kaity was gonna notice. Kaity also happens to be a damn good shot. With like 6 months to live. So. Behave.”

Bucky froze, “Is that really all she has?”

Nat nodded and sighed, “Kaity told me Y/N’s hopeful. That she and her parents found an experimental trial that might help but... Kaity. Well. She’s not so sure. She doesn’t even think she has 6 months to be honest.”

Bucky felt like he’d been punched in the stomach. He didn’t even care that Kaity had threatened to shoot him. He didn’t want you to go through that. He didn’t want you to leave. 

“Sorry, Buck,” Natasha said, passing him a glass of cherry coke and a straw. 

“How’s Y/N handling it?” Bucky said. 

Nat half shrugged, “As well as anyone can. I mean, Kaity’s her best friend. Kaity’s parents practically raised her. Kaity says she puts on a brave face, you know. Runs the shop. She helps her mom out by making sure the cooking and cleaning are done. But, she’s scared. Depressed I guess. Mostly cause she’s back here. Kaity told me she never planned on coming back. Couldn’t deal with all her parent's old drug buddies, you know?”

Bucky winced, nodding. It was all ancient history, but it wasn’t. This wasn’t a small town really, but it was. The community had a long memory for gossip and your parents had caused a lot of it in their heyday. Had died owing money all over the place. Now that he was older and knew the kind of damage the wrong kind of reputation could really do, he had a newfound appreciation for your talent to go largely unnoticed.

If Steve hadn’t nudged him he wouldn’t have even noticed you coming that way. You move that quietly. Bucky half turns and his heart skips a beat. You’re not wearing makeup but you did change clothes. Jeans and a soft, warm sweater. Some black boots. You look more like you’re about to go apple picking than get a drink at a biker bar, but then. Somehow, it fits. You’re unapologetically yourself. 

“Damn girl,” Nat said smiling, grabbing your hand, “You look good. I like that hair color on you.”

You smile a little, “Hey Nat,” you say, “Thanks. Kaity told me to tell you to keep me out of trouble.” You roll your eyes fondly and Nat snorts, handing you a glass of coke, “Anything for Kaity.”

You greet Steve and Bucky both with a quiet hello and Steve makes himself scarce shortly after a few minutes of small talk. 

“So,” Bucky said clearing his throat, “How’s things? How was the world outside Madison county?”

“Not as big as everyone always said it was,” you say, taking a sip of your soda. 

“How’s that?” Bucky asked. 

“It didn’t really matter where I went, it was the same old shit,” you tell him, “I guess you can take the girl out of Madison but you can’t take the Madison out of the girl.”

Bucky snorts, “I don’t think that’s true. You did good, kid. Not got six kids and a boyfriend in jail. Got a cute cat... Where’d you leave the little shit anyway?”

“She’s keeping Kaity company while I’m out,” you answer. 

Before Bucky can say anything, Clint hurls himself into the chair next to your and throws his arm around your shoulder, “Hey, Y/N!” he said, in that loud overly friendly way drunk people have right before they get annoying. “Glad you’re back home. Coming in to class up the joint? Or are you here to take Bucky for a test drive.”

You blush and awkwardly shrug out from under his arm, feeling the first signs of impending embarrassment in the pit of your stomach. Some people could sense a storm. You could sense humiliation. Who knew?

“Just- I,” Clint is smirking at you. You know he’s probably just trashed. But he has that same look on his face as the stupid meatheads in middle school that would trap you in the lunchroom and say, “Hey, my friend really likes you,” before bursting into laughter. You don’t even know why you can’t say anything. You just can’t

“Barton,” Natasha said warningly, “It’s 8pm and I WILL cut you off.”

“Aww, Tasha-” Clint protested.

“And I don’t mean booze.”

“Yes ma’am,” Clint said sitting up in his chair, smirk falling off his face.

Nat catches your eye and winks, making you smile a little and Bucky reaches around you to smack Clint in the back of the head, “Don’t be a shit heel,” Bucky said.

“Hey!” Clint protested, “After all the time you spent spouting poetry about how much you wanted to get her on your dick, I just wanted to know.”

You feel your cheeks heat and you push your glass away, “I- I should go,” you murmur, “Kaity wasn’t feeling well when I left.” It’s a lame excuse and you know it but people are laughing and you want to fall through the floor. Some shit, you think, doesn’t change. All he wanted was in my pants. I shoulda known better. Stupid. I’m so fucking stupid. 

You drop a couple dollars on the counter and hop off your stool, pulling your phone out to call Kaity. 

“You’re cut off,” Nat hisses at Clint across the bar as she watches Bucky hurry after you.

“Aww, Tasha!”

Bucky catches up to you just before your jeep and catches your arm. “Y/N,” he pleaded, “Please wait. It’s not. It’s not like that.”

You take a deep breath, “Bucky,” you say slowly, angry, hurt tears starting to fall, “Just leave me alone, okay? High school is over. We’re twenty fucking five. You have a car. You can stop scheming to get girls to fuck you with your friends. I’m sorry you didn’t get to see me naked in high school. I’m sure I wasn’t that high on your list but honestly. Grow up.”

Tears are falling thick and fast down your cheeks and your voice is trembling but, unlike the crying fits Char threw for show, your voice never raised. You wrenched your arm out of his grip and he let go, taking a step back. 

“Doll,” he said gently, “I just- I’m sorry.” He took a deep breath. It felt like a knife in his heart seeing you cry. You wipe tears away on your hand and turn to open the car door. “When I realized who you were,” he murmured, “You were all I could think about-” You pause, listening but Bucky doesn’t get a chance to finish. 

Boots crunching on gravel make him turn and Char, in all her blonde, biker barbie glory is striding towards them, a triumphant smirk on her face. 

“Well,” she said, folding her arms across her chest, “I see this is going well.”

“Char,” Bucky said, “Can you give us a minute?” He can feel his teeth grinding. He wants to tell her to fuck off but something tells him to tread lightly. 

“No I really can’t,” she said, proffering a plastic bag, “Not when we have a baby to plan for.” 

Bucky looks down and his heart drops somewhere to the region of his feet. It’s a positive pregnancy test alright. 

“Have fun with that Bucky,” you say, getting in your jeep and slamming the door. Bucky can’t even turn to look at you, all he can do is look up at Char, “You know, Char,” he said slowly, “Nat was right.”

“About what, Buckaroo?” she said shoving the bag back into her purse and tossing her hair over her shoulder.

“You’re a goddamn tragedy,” he sighed, turning to walk back into the bar and order several drinks, leaving her standing under the streetlight pouting.


	4. Chapter 4

You let yourself into the house and set your bag down on the counter with a sigh, scooping Salem off the floor as she started to wind around your legs. “Hey Porkchop, Aunt Kaity in bed already? Hm?” 

You cuddle her and bury your face in her soft fur, grateful that she couldn’t ask you questions. Or pass judgment. You pad across the kitchen, still holding her like a baby in the crook of your arm and set about getting something to eat. You know you’ll probably feed a lot of it to Salem, but Kaity fusses at you when you skip meals. She was already going to be irritated when she realized that you had only take $100 as your paycheck. Not all she technically owed you. But, you had a place to sleep, food, and all you really needed was money for cat food and gas.

“How’d it go?” Kaity said, taking a seat in the kitchen, smirking when you jump.

“Christ, Kaity,” you yelp, “Don’t do that!”

“That good huh?” she said, noting your red eyes with a frown.

“About as good as I expected it to go,” you say guardedly, putting your plate down in front of Kaity and turning to make another.

“I’m gonna kill him.”

“Kate-”

“No. I’m serious. Who the fuck does he think he is? Did you at least hit him?”

Tears start welling up unbidden and you hug Salem a little closer, swallowing hard. You can’t bring yourself to tell her what happened. That he just wanted in your pants. That he had a chick he was already fucking around with. One that he had apparently knocked up. Kaity stopped and stood up slowly, holding her arms out for you to walk into, “Come’ere, Bubbles,” she coaxed gently.

You set Salem down gently to investigate the floor for treats and walk into her arms, burying your face in her shoulder. “Shhh,” she murmured, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry… Was he at least going bald or something?”

You laugh in spite of yourself, “No, damn it. He’s still fucking cute. The asshole.”

Kaity wipes tears away with her thumbs and kisses your cheek, “Well fuck,” she pouted, “Was anyone else at least worth flirting with?”

“Pretty sure I’m not anyone’s type, Kate.”

“Bullshit. You’re everyone’s type.”

“You’re biased, Blossom. I can prove it.”

“Fuck you. I waited up for you. Let me have this. I’m dying remember?”

You wince and shake your head, “Not allowed. Nope. Nope. We have to die on the same day remember? We promised.” Tears start welling up again and Kaity thuds her forehead against yours gently.

“It’ll be okay, Bubbles,” she soothed, “You just gotta make a new promise okay? I need you to promise you’re gonna keep going… If you don’t I’m gonna haunt your ass. Like. Exorcist shit okay? Pea Soup everywhere. Forever.”

You shake your head, “I’m not doing shit. Because we’re gonna die on the same day. Two old biddies with a bunch of dead husbands and like… suspicious amounts of money.”

Kaity kisses your cheek again but doesn’t answer. She remembers that promise. She remembers laying next to you in your hospital bed after you’d tried to slit your wrists. She’d made you promise. Promise that you weren’t gonna try to leave her again. Made you swear that you were gonna stay as long as she needed you. That you’d not go without each other. 

“Fuck this,” she said, “I wanna watch Muppets and eat ice cream.”

You nod, “Okay, Kaity. Okay,” you tell her, going to get her pint down from the freezer. Anything to not have to think about being without her. 

__________

Bucky let himself in through the backdoor of his ma’s house and took a deep breath. Breakfast. Sunday Breakfast especially was sacred to Winifred Barnes and she didn’t do anything by halves. Cooking enough pancakes, bacon, eggs, biscuits and gravy, anything you could want really, for an entire army. As long as Bucky could remember their house had been full for breakfast. Steve and Nat always, but now Sam, Clint, and Tony joined the mix more often than not. His sisters were gabbling with Nat and it was just so blissfully normal. Even if it all irritated his current hang over. 

He made his way down the line at the breakfast bar, kissing each of his sisters on the cheek and then kissing his ma’s.

“Ah, there’s the prodigal son,” she said disapprovingly, clicking her tongue at him. 

“Sorry, Ma,” he said, “I been a little busy.”

“Mhmm,” she said, passing him a plate and frowning at him.

“What, ma?”

“You know what, James Buchanan.”

“Oooo,” Steve said, “You done messed up, Buck.”

“Steven Grant,” she said not turning, “You may be a grown-ass man but I can and will drop you.”

Tony snickered and Steve snorted, “Yes, ma’am.”

“That creature,” Winifred said with a shudder, “Called the house and had the gall to tell me I’m going to be a grandmother.” She fixed her son with a level stare, “Please. Please tell me that you didn’t.”

Bucky felt his cheeks color, “Probably not,” he murmured.

“James,” she groaned.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t worry,” Nat said over her coffee cup, “Leanna Harrison is selling positive tests on the buy sell trade groups again. She’s probably not even pregnant.”

“Still,” Winnie said, “You leave that girl alone. Think about the girls.” She gestured at his high school-aged sisters, “They need good role models.”

Bucky rolled his eyes.

“I saw Y/N in town the other day. Remember? The cute little girl you used to have a crush on?” She said putting food on his plate.

“Yeah, Ma, I remember,” he sighed, shooting Steve a death glare when the other man choked on his juice. 

‘Now that,” she said, “That’s a good girl. You should talk to her.”

“Ma,” he protested.

“What?” she said, tugging his ear, “She’s a good girl. She’d actually raise your babies. And she’s prettier.”

“Ma,” he protested louder.

“Fine, fine,” she said shoving him towards the table, “Not like I didn’t raise you better or anything.”

_________

Bucky stepped outside and lit a cigarette, taking a drag to try and calm himself down. Char was on his ass and had been every minute for the last three days. Still, he couldn’t tell her to fuck off. Not exactly. Not till he knew if this kid was his. Or even if she was really pregnant. He had his suspicions. She was really non-specific about everything, but he was hesitant to write her off. Careful not to let his own wishes override his reality. 

“Bucky?” Nat said leaning on the door. 

“I’ll be in in a minute,” Bucky said taking another drag and exhaling slowly. 

“No, now,” she said sounding tense, “Kaity’s here.”

“Kaity?”

“She’s fucking pissed.”

He ground his cigarette out under his heel and swept it into the gravel with his heel, heading inside, “What’s she want?”

“To talk to you,” Nat said softly, “Char’s been coming by the book shop.”

Bucky sighed, “What the fuck?”

Bucky rounded the corner and felt his step shudder for a moment. Kaity looked sunken. Pale. Smaller. The pink scarf around her head covered her thinning hair but the hollows of her cheeks were stark.

“How can I help you?” he said, determined to be professional.

“You’re gonna put a muzzle on your bitch,” she said sternly, “Or I’m gonna.”

“Kate,” he said taken aback for a second.

“No,” she said, “You tell her to back the fuck back. You know Y/N ain’t chasing your ass. So you better tell her that. I got 3 months left to live and I ain’t afraid of that bimbo.”

Bucky held up his hands placatingly, “I’ll talk to her,” he said, “she shouldn’t be doing that.”

“You better,” she said, leaning heavily on her cane, “I think Y/N’s had enough to deal with, don’t you?”

The look on Kaity’s face said she knew perfectly well what all had happened and Bucky nodded, swallowing hard, “I’ll make it right,” he said, “I just need time.”

“Three hours,” Kaity said, “You call off your dog or I get mad.”

She turned and didn’t give him the chance to respond, leaving to get into the waiting car. Bucky didn’t see the driver, but he was willing to bet it wasn’t you. You probably didn’t even know she was there.”

“Muzzle for your bitch,” Clint chuckled, “That was a good one.”

“Fuck off, Barton,” Bucky said rubbing the back of his neck, pulling his phone out of his pocket to try and stop Char from making his life a bigger living hell.


	5. Chapter 5

Early snow started flying just as Bucky pulled into Char’s driveway. There wasn’t another car, but it was pretty likely she was parked in her garage. Especially if it was cold out. 

Bucky zipped his coat and forced himself out the door. He didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t want to look at her, but it had to be done. He couldn’t have her coming to your shop and starting shit. That was unacceptable, especially when you wouldn’t even answer his phone calls. Not to the shop or your phone. He sighed and made his way up the porch steps, knocking once before letting himself in.

He didn’t expect what he saw. His first instinct was to leave, but, honestly. When did he ever listen to his instincts. He leaned against the counter and pulled out a pocket knife, just quietly waiting. Some guy had Char bent over the arm of her couch and was plowing into her like he still had another 40 acres of field to go that day. 

It wasn’t the most creative dirty talk he’d ever heard. “Oh fuck, uh yeah baby,” in a deep tone of voice that was almost as irritating as baby talk. Over again until he finally lost it. Amature, Bucky decided. Or a pick up artist. Probably both if he had to rely on that game shit.

“You know,” Bucky drawled as he watched the guy shove his now limp dick back in his jeans, “If you’re tryna pass that kid off as mine, it’s probably a good idea not to let me catch you with someone else hitting it raw. Especially when I know I never did.”

“Hey!” the guy said startled, starting towards him pissed.

Bucky caught Char’s eye and smirked, “Calm down, junior. I’m not here for you,” he said, ignoring the probably 19 year old. 

“Listen Char,” he said, “You gotta leave Y/N alone. She’s not even interested in me.”

“Bullshit,” Char said.

“Char, seriously. That kid probably isn’t even mine. Even if it is I’ll give you money but. We’re done. I’ve had enough. So either you leave Y/N alone or I’ll let Natasha have you.”

The blonde pouted, “Buckaroo,” she tried.

“No. I mean it,” he said. 

“Get the fuck out!” she said after staring at him open-mouthed for a moment. Gearing up for a tantrum. 

“Okay,” Bucky said turning, shaking his head. He’d lay odds that wasn’t his kid. If she even was pregnant. But for now, he decided that wasn’t his problem. Until he had DNA test results in his hand, she wasn’t getting anything. Not if she was gonna keep fucking around. Especially not then. 

He had one purpose right now, and that was to get back in your good books. Seeing Kaity had been a shock. He’d seen her a few months ago just in passing and she’d looked fine. But today, today had scared him. He was scared for you.

He remembered Kaity from school. Three years older. Popular. A cheerleader. A nice girl. Nice to everyone. You’d been her shadow. Meek and quiet. A weird kid. Kaity was the only person you really talked to. The only person you’d be funny with. Your best friend. It was clear that that was still the case. Kaity had straight walked into a room full of bikers and threatened to shoot someone. She loved you. And it was clear if you were back in town to help take care of her, you loved her too. And you were going to have to be without her. 

The thought stabbed at him. Lancing through his heart and twisting as tears prickled at the backs of his eyes. He hated it. He hated that this was happening. After he’d pushed you out of his head, he’d not thought of you much. You were the one that got away and life had to go on. But sometimes. In the dark of his bunk in the army, when he couldn’t sleep. Or now, panting from a nightmare. That’s when he thought of you. Imagined how it could have been.

What it would have been like if he’d not been a pussy. If he’d let himself be soft for you instead of being such a fucking idiot and trying to impress you the way you impress girls like Char that think they’re hard. You didn’t need to be hard. Your whole life was hard. 

He pulled into the parking lot of the shop and just sat in his car a long time, watching the snow. He thought back to a day a lot like this one. Early snow, Just before Thanksgiving. It had been a class trip to some farm or something. He and Steve and Clint had been being stupid. Lagging behind and making jokes about mating season for reasons he couldn’t remember. They were 15. It didn’t really matter why. 

What he did remember was you. You were back at school with a butterfly suture on your cheek bone and limping a little. Keeping to yourself more than normal. Laying low, Bucky figured. Your dad was in trouble again and your mom was stirring shit up in town. Everyone knew you were living at Kaity’s again and that was the only reason you were on this trip. Or had money to buy a cup of hot cider. What you were drinking right now. Bucky didn’t care about what their guide was saying. He was too busy watching you out of the corner of his eye. Watching the snowfall on your hair. It looked like flowers. And he wanted to kiss away each flake that fell on your nose and cheeks. He’d looked away when you caught him staring. “You okay, Bucky?” you’d asked him.

“Fine,” he said, “Spaced out. Sorry.”

There were so many moments like that. Moments where he’d longed to just touch you. When you were little it was easy. He could play tag with you. Laughing as he chased you over the pea-gravel and grass. If he talked to Steve or Clint too much, the teacher would move his desk next to yours. Because he didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to bother you when you did your work. You looked so fucking happy doing it. Intently focused. 

As he got older though, it got harder. Boys and Girls couldn’t play together and the teacher wouldn’t just move him for being a disruption. You got quieter and he had less reasons to try and talk to you. He started getting taller and getting muscles and girls, all kinds of girls flung themselves at him. He lost sight of you for a little while. But there was always some sense that something was wrong when you weren’t in class that day. And when he lost his virginity at 14 in the janitor's closet of the movie theater where he got his first job, he felt a vague sense of loss. Jeanette was a nice girl. Bubbly. Perky. But she wasn’t you, though it wasn’t, he didn’t realize until he was 17. 

Until he was blackout drunk. Until he realized you’d almost been gone forever. What that sense of loss could mean. 

Bucky watched the snow on the windshield and hardly noticed when Steve got in the passenger seat.

“You okay, Bucky?” he asked, a little worried.

“Have I always been in love with her?” Bucky asked after a long moment.

“Almost as long as I’ve known you, I think.”

“Why didn’t anyone ever tell me that?”

Steve snorted, “Because you were a cocky little shit. You were a bad boy. You wanted all the girls. Not just that one.”

“Was a bad boy?” Bucky asked, half offended.

“Pretty sure you never were a bad boy. You’ve got marshmallow insides.”

“Fuck you, I’m tough.”

“Sure ya are, Buck,” Steve said, “But are you tough enough to actually go through with this?”

“Go through with what?”

“Getting your girl, you ass clown.”

Bucky turned his head to look at Steve and Steve held up his hand, “Look man, it’s been two decades of low key pining after this one little girl. Either go after her or let it all go.”

“I don't know if I can do either one,” he said letting his head fall back.

“Then you don’t deserve her at all.”

Steve got out of the car and left Bucky to think. Walking back into the shop and trusting Bucky to do the right thing. Trusting him to follow his heart.


	6. Chapter 6

Bucky walks into the shop quietly, watching you set up a new display in the window. Some seasonally appropriate artwork. Paintings and hand made pots. Books on how to do those things. Antique books from the 40′s it looks like. He’s afraid to disturb you. Afraid to ruin whatever fragile peace of mind you might be finding doing this.

You look like you did in Elementary school when the teacher handed you your worksheet. Content. Focused. To be honest, he’s a little surprised he didn’t recognize you. But then, you had glasses now. And your hair was darker. He just lets you have this for a second. Lets himself have this. “I’ll be with you in just one second,” you say, reaching up to adjust a book so it sits just so on your display.

“Take your time, Doll,” Bucky says softly.

“Bucky,” you say turning around, startled. You look up at him, lips slightly parted, about to say something and Bucky can’t help it. He just can’t.

He crosses the floor to you and cradles you against him gently, one hand tangling in your hair and the other hovering on the small of your back. First feathering a soft kiss on the tip of your nose and then your lips.

He has to do this. He has to kiss you the way you should be kissed. Not some sloppy drunk mess that leaves you wanting. The way your first kiss had been.

When you didn’t pull away and slap him, he presses a little harder, nipping your lip gently to open your mouth and brush his tongue against yours in a soft caress. It takes serious discipline not to pick you up and set you on the counter. Not to throw you over his shoulder like a cave man and carry you off to claim you on the first soft surface he can find. He hadn’t planned this. But when you pull away, looking up at him blushing and surprised, he can’t say he minds.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, wiping some of your smudged lip color with his thumb, “I’m a sucker for red lipstick.”

“I- what about- I mean that woman- what’s going on?” you say, confused. Dazed. It’s been an emotionally trying few days. Weeks. Okay, really, you think, it’s been years but whose counting. And now Bucky Fucking Barnes of all people is kissing you. And looking at you like he loves you. And he’s sober. 

“Look, Y/N,” Bucky said blushing, “Char and I aren’t- I mean. She’s my fuck buddy. We’re not dating. Never were. And I just… If that kid is mine we’ll cross that bridge when we get there. But I doubt it is. Or that she’s even really pregnant given that I just found some dude balls deep in her, unwrapped… I’m sorry.”

He brushes hair behind your ear tenderly and takes a deep breath.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, “For as long as I can remember, I’ve been half in love with you. I’m sorry I’m a fucking asshole. That I hurt you this bad. That I had to act all hard instead of just admitting that I love you because loving you would mean I was… I dunno. A whimp or something.”

You look away and he tilts your chin up, “I know 20 years is a long time to be stupid but, baby, please. All I need is one chance.”

“But- Kaity,” you protest.

“Kaity walked into my shop at 9am and informed me I better get my shit together because she has two months to live and no fear of jail,” Bucky snorted fondly. 

“Oh no,” you say, covering your mouth to try and stifle a giggle in spite of yourself. In spite of being about to cry.

Bucky pulls you close slowly and kisses the top of your head, “Just one chance,” he pleaded, kissing your nose again when you look up at him. 

“One,” you allow, exhaling slowly. “But only if you kiss me again.”

He needs no second order. “Yes, ma’am,” he murmurs against your lips, claiming the second kiss he’d been waiting for for years. Relishing the feel of your arms winding around him and the feel of you pulling him closer. A silent request for just a little more. There are desperation and longing. in the way you touch him. A need Bucky understands. A need to be distracted. To drown out all the demons screaming in his head. He’s happy to oblige, to give you that moment.

“Have dinner with me tonight?” he asks, a little breathless when he comes up for air.

“I can’t,” you murmur, “Hospice is coming to get set up tonight. We’re moving a couple rooms around.” You swallow hard and Bucky feels his heart drop.

“Baby,” he murmurs, “Is there anything I can do?”

You shake your head, “I just really need a nap. Maybe a cookie. But I’ll be okay.”

Bucky chuckles, “Well I can get you both those things, doll.”

You smile a little, “I can’t sleep. I haven’t really been able to since I moved home… Any time I start to sleep too well I jerk back awake. Afraid- afraid something might happen and I won’t wake up.”

“Even here if I tuck you in on the couch?” he asked, concerned. 

You nod, “I freak out because I might not hear my phone.”

“I can feed you a cookie,” he coaxes, “Get you a coffee too. Some soup. Anything you want. I’ll run the front and you just go lie down for a little bit. Even if you don’t sleep. Read a book. Look up someplace we can go paint a plate or something… just rest a little.”

“But-”

“Go on,” he said shooing you gently, “I’ll put the order in. I can handle this for you. You need to rest. Kaity is gonna need you well-rested, isn’t she?” 

“My bank card is-”

“No,” Bucky said, letting a little of his Sargeant’s voice creep in. Not a lot, but enough to make you stop. Just stop and let him do this. Let him give you some comfort. A little TLC. “I told you to go lay down,” he murmured softly, “I don’t want your card. I want you to do what I said, understand, baby girl? I only get one shot. I’m gonna take care of you.”

He kisses your nose again tenderly and gently turns you towards the back, calling the cafe next door to order you soup, a cookie, and a hot chocolate and a sandwich. You need fuel and you need rest. Maybe if he can get you cozy for a while he can give you that. He can watch the shop and listen to your phone for a few hours if it means you get some sleep.

When food arrives, you’re on the velvet fainting couch, covered up in a throw blanket. Still awake. Very much away looking anxious and pale, shivering. Bucky feels a stab of pain for you and carries things back gently, “I thought you might be hungry,” he explained, setting food out. A grilled cheese, some tomato soup, the biggest cookie he could order, and a hot chocolate. “And it’s fucking miserable outside, thought this might help.”

You put up the cup of hot chocolate and Bucky notices your hands trembling. “Thanks,” you murmur, taking a sip.

Bucky takes a bite of his own sandwich and nods. For the next 20 or so minutes, there’s not a lot of talking as you’re eating. Bucky is subtly pushing as much on you as he can, figuring a full stomach will put you to sleep for a while. He’s not disappointed when you protest that you can’t eat anymore, he just kisses the side of your head and tucks your blanket around you more firmly, trusting some warm soup and the shitty weather to knock you out. Hell, it usually knocked him out. 

He sits with you for a while, idly rubbing the little bare feet in his lap, half-listening to the front of the shop in case someone walks in, half-listening for your breathing to indicate sleep. Once you doze off, he tucks your feet in gently and pads his way to the front of the shop to sit and wait. It’s a nice few hours, watching the snow and ringing a few people out. Carefully wrapping a piece of artwork for a customer. Playing games on his phone. 

For the first time in a long time, he doesn’t mind being bored. Or sober. It’s for a good cause, he decides. And he hates the idea that he could kiss you and not remember it. Not when the way you responded to him was just so pretty. At closing time, when you come back up front, rosy-cheeked with sleep and rubbing your eyes, glasses in hand, he smiles softly.

“Good sleep?” he asked, pulling you onto his knee while you get your bearings.

You yawn, nodding and he rubs your stomach affectionately, “Warm soup belly,” he explained, “works every time. Not sure why it works but a warm, full belly will knock out insomnia pretty well.”

You make a soft sleepy noise and stretch, slowly remembering how to wake up, “I’ll defer to your expertise. I don’t think I ever sleep that good,” you tell him.

He tuts softly, “Well,” he said, “I got a few other remedies if you ever need me to knock you out again.” 

“Oh?” you ask putting your glasses on.

“They’re just not things you do with clothes on, doll,” he teased.

You blush and turn to lock down the register and put money in the bank bag. “Oh,” you say quietly.

“Y/N,” Bucky murmured, “Have you not ever?”

You shake your head, “I didn’t want anyone to see me,” you murmured, “I scarred myself up pretty bad over the years. I just. I dunno. After the first guy I dated freaked out about my wrists I just couldn’t.”

“I’ve seen your wrists,” he reminded gently, wrapping his arms around you gently and kissing your shoulder, “And I run around with bikers. Scars don’t scare me, baby. Not even the scary ones.”

You nod and take a shaky breath, “No,” he said softly, “There’s no pressure. Not one bit. Okay? I’m not gonna lie to you. I’d love to take you home, right now, and love you until you can’t walk. But this isn’t about me, okay?”

When you’re quiet, he tilts your chin up gently, “Okay, baby girl?” he presses gently. “Okay,” you answer quietly. 

Bucky doesn’t say anything else, watching you get everything ready to go and closing down before walking you patiently to your car.

“Sweetheart,” he said gently kissing your hand, dimly aware that he’s used more pet names for you in a few hours than he’s ever used for anyone, “you need anything, you call me? Okay? I don’t care what it is.”

“What if I just want you to bring me a teddy bear?” you say, smiling a little.

“Anything,” he repeats gently, “I’m gonna take care of my girl, you hear me?”

“I hear you,” you tell him softly.

“Good,” he murmurs, “Put the others in your phone too okay? If you can’t get a hold of me I want you to be able to get someone. They’ll find me.”

You nod and he shuts your car door firmly, stepping back so you can pull out of your space and avoid his toes. He waves as you drive away and watches you stop at the light. It’s still snowing and he makes a note to make sure he cleans your side walk and his mom’s tomorrow. You have enough issues without worrying about that. 

________

By the time you get home, Kaity is installed in her hospital bed and you come to sit with her, snuggling close and tucking a comforter around you both.

“I can’t believe you threatened to fucking shoot her,” you scold, “Or that Aunt Judy fucking told on me. THEN LET YOU DO IT!”

Kaity shrugged, pushing play on the remote. “You’re our baby,” Kaity said snuggling you and coaxing Salem closer. “Mama didn’t just take you in for fun, She loves you. And you’re my doll baby, remember?”

“You never let me forget it,” you murmur, resting your head on her shoulder. 

“You were so tiny when they brought you home,” she said, “I asked daddy if you needed batteries. You didn’t even look real.” She smiles, “I called you Dolly forever.”

“You still do sometimes, Cat-cat,” you tell her, adjusting yourself to sit cross-legged and start trimming her nails.

“You only call me Cat- cat anymore when you don’t want me to worry,” she said suspiciously, “What else happened today?”

“Nothing,” you tell her, keeping your eyes down, focused on your nails.

“So why’d Nat text me and tell me that Bucky was watching the shop for you?” she pressed.

“Because he brought me lunch and I fell asleep on the couch in the back,” you answer, keeping your voice as level as possible. 

“If that’s all that happened why’d Bucky tell Nat he kissed you?” she said, chucking you under the chin with her free hand. 

“I didn’t know how you’d react,” you tell her, looking down again and adjusting your glasses before starting work on her other hand.

“Y/N,” she said softly, “The only thing I want is for you not to be alone.”

“I’m okay on my own, Kaity,” you murmur.

“But you deserve so much more, Dolly,” she said softly. “You’re magic and champagne at midnight. Why are you settling for warm Natty light and a hot dog?”

“I’m just some trailer trash that can paint, Kaity. That’s all. I don’t have to take up space to do that.”

“Bucky doesn’t think so. I don’t think so. Mama and Daddy don’t think so. Grandma didn’t either. Bubbles, please,” Kaity said taking a deep breath, “I already talked about it with Mama and Daddy. I want to leave you the Shop. And Grandma’s house, since she wanted it to go to the oldest and that won’t be me anymore. Do me one favor?”

You take a deep breath and nod. You don’t want to talk about this but the hospital bed and the Hospice Nurse coming in in the morning made it impossible. 

“Take care of mama and daddy for me?” she said softly, “Make sure they don’t follow me too fast.”

You wipe away tears for her gently and nod, making her smile a little, “At least I know they’ll have you. That the shop’s in good hands. Even if you are a shit and won’t let me pay you.”

“I don’t need much Kaity. Just a place to sleep and some cat food.”

“And a biker to keep you warm,” Kaity teased, making your cheeks color.

“No,” Kaity said giggling, “It’s great. One of us needs to get laid soon or it won’t be the cancer that kills me. It’ll be all the fucking sexual frustration. Was he at least a good kisser?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, cheeks burning, making Kaity laugh.

“Whatever it is,” Aunt Judy said backing through the door, “I don’t want to know.”

She took a seat in a chair and arranged a dinner tray for Kaity, kissing you both fondly on the head, taking in your blushing cheeks, “I definitely don’t want to know.”


	7. Chapter 7

Bucky walked into his shop, knocking snow from his boots and shrugging out of his coat, “You’re late, Barnes,” Tony shouts over his welder. 

“I had sidewalks to shovel, Stark, Fuck off.”

“Did you get, Y/N’s?” Nat asked handing him a coffee. He took it with a grateful smile, “Yeah. I wanted to make sure she wasn’t out there doing it. She’s got enough going on with Kaity and the shop.”

Nat nodded, “Yeah. Judy had this up on her facebook this morning.” she said hitting a few buttons on her phone. She shows him a photo of you and Kaity, asleep leaning on each other, cuddled close in the glow of a television. The caption said, “I love my girls. I don’t know how I’d do this without them.”

Bucky smiled a little. You looked comfortable. He was glad at least, that you had time. That you could come to terms with it all. He sighed, “I take it you heard from Kaity?” he asked.

“No,” she said, “But Y/N did say she’s got a pain management appointment today. Judy’s gonna take her, per the message she sent me this morning when I asked if I should punch you in the mouth this morning.”

“I thought you were my friend,” Bucky said feigning hurt. 

“Hey, girls gotta protect each other,” she said tossing hair out of her eyes, “And I thought if I punched you Kaity wouldn’t shoot you.”

“Fair,” he said nodding, “But I was a perfect gentleman. I even apologized for mussing her lipstick.”

“Good,” Nat said, “Now keep up the good work. Maybe you can keep this one.”

“I coulda kept lots of them!”

“Yeah. But you want to keep this one.”

Bucky nodded, “I really do.” He sipped his coffee and let it warm his hands for a moment, settling into his day. 

He wanted to text you and tell you good morning, but he also didn’t want to smother you and leave you feeling like you had no space. 

Eventually, he did text you, pulling his phone back out of his pocket. He couldn’t find a fault in a gentle reminder that he thought you were beautiful.

Good morning, baby girl. How’d you sleep? ❤

He set his phone on top of his toolbox and got to work on his engine build, tinkering with this and that, half-listening for his phone to chime

When it did, he wiped his hands on a shop rag and turned to pick up the device. On his screen, there was a picture of the cleaned off sidewalk taken from your kitchen window.

I slept fine, you? Kaity says thank you for doing the walk. She wasn’t looking forward to dealing with her cane on the snow.

He smiles a little and chuckles. You really don’t have any experience. No flirting, just the morning report. But, that was okay. He’d teach you that too. He had time and you had a full plate. He didn’t expect to be your top priority right now. He’d be disappointed in you if he was honestly.

He didn’t text you back right away, instead, he shot a text to his mom.

ma, can i bring a friend to breakfast sunday?

It’s not that awful creature?

No.

who is it? She’s not on drugs is she?

Not unless you count coffee.

Who is she?

Y/N.

If you don’t bring her I’m gonna disown you.

Bucky smiled to himself. His ma had always had a soft spot for little lost lambs and you definitely fit the bill. She’d been forever asking him about you. It irked her that you’d left town when you’d gone. Bucky was pretty sure if she was gonna get grandkids out of wedlock, you’re the only person she’d tolerate. Not that he wanted that. All he wanted right now was to find a way to make you stay. A way to help you through this mess. He picked up his phone again and texted you.

Baby girl I need you to do me a favor

oh?

I need you to come to breakfast at my ma’s house on sunday or she’s gonna disown me.

I’ll talk to Kaity. And Aunt Judy. I don’t want to leave them in the lurch.

i’ll pick you up?

In a car, right?

for now. it’s cold and I don’t want you getting sick.

Ok.

“Bucky,” Steve said strolling across the shop floor, “I’m gonna take your phone if you don’t get that fucking engine built.”

“C’mon, Steve,” he protested, “It was important.”

“Y/N having a hangnail is not important.”

Bucky sighed and shoved his phone into the pocket of his flannel, “I was asking her to come to breakfast on Sunday,” he says.

“Well there’s a test of your relationship,” Steve said.

“Shut up, ma will love her,” Bucky said.

“Oh that I don’t doubt,” Steve said chuckling, “Miss Winnie really does like adopting little lost lambs.”

“Then what’s to test?” Bucky drawled, starting to work on his assembly again. 

“That’s a lot of family togetherness at one table Buck,” Steve said, “Y/N isn’t exactly feral but…”

“It’ll be fine. Ma’s excited to have her. Pretty sure she’s been dying to actually talk to her since we were in high school.”

Steve grinned, “Are you kidding. If you woulda actually dated her Minnie would have had the wedding planned and ready to go for the day after graduation.”

Bucky felt his cheeks color and focused on his assembly after that, at least on the outside. In the back of his mind, he’d always wondered what it would be like to wake up with you every morning. He’d loved every minute of getting you down for a nap yesterday, the only thing he’d think about changing is having to run the shop. He’d wanted to lay down with you and let you snuggle on his chest so badly it ached. He’d come back to check on you a few times, adding another blanket to keep you warm and making sure you were still asleep.

“You’ll make cute kids,” Clint said smirking when he noticed Bucky blushing.

“Clint,” Bucky said warningly.

“What?” he answered, “You will. And at least they’ll only be half stupid.”

“That’s also true,” Steve snorted.

“It’s too early for that. She’s never even had sex!” Bucky protested, not realizing exactly what he said.

“With you or ever?” Clint said, blinking in surprise.

Bucky groaned internally, “Ever,” he mumbled.

“How?” Clint said, “Hell I woulda hit it if you hadn’t been in love with her. She’s hot.”

Bucky sighed, “Look. It’s not really anyone’s business. Just. It’s. She’s just not found anyone she wanted to sleep with. That’s all you need to know.”

Clint nodded, “Fair enough,” he said. “She’s a good girl. A little too sweet for you but. It works.”

_________

Sunday morning, Bucky was up earlier than usual, taking time to shave and find a shirt that didn’t have grease stains on it. He had one. One solitary white shirt that had as yet escaped the shop and he pulled it on gratefully. He made a mental note to buy a few new shirts, things to wear when he took you out. You were worth looking decent for. 

He knew you wouldn’t have all day with him. But your Aunt Judy and Kaity both had been more than willing to do without you until evening. Bucky had dropped by the book shop every day, to bring you coffee and steal a kiss. Or two. Or three. It made his lunch breaks a lot more fun. and it gave him a chance to check on you face to face. He needed to see you. He basked in every shy smile and lingering hug. It felt so comfortable. In some ways, your head on his chest felt more intimate than any time he had had sex with a woman. You were giving him more than your body, letting him close. You were carefully handing him your heart and trusting him not to hurt you again. 

That made him feel a lot of things. A sort of pride. And fear. A need to protect you. He just wanted you to be happy. Safe and happy. 

He got out of his car and walked to the door. He remembered this house as your grandma’s house. It looked the same. The family had kept it up really well, he noted. He knocked on the door and waited. Your Uncle Jack opened the door and jerked his head towards the end of the porch, indicating Bucky should follow him there.

Bucky felt his mouth go dry but he nodded and went.

“Before Y/N comes down here,” he said, “I want you to know one thing.”

Bucky cocked his head, “What’s that, Sir?”

“I want to know that you’re going to take care of my girl,” he said, fixing Bucky with a stare that made him feel like he was 13 and taking you on your first date.

“I’m going to try, Sir,” he said, “I- I should have done it years ago.”

Jack took his hand and clapped him on the shoulder walking him back towards the door. “That’s all I needed to know son,” he said kindly, “Just treat her right. You hear?”

“I hear,” he said, letting himself be ushered inside to wait on you. 

You came downstairs a few moments later, shoes in hand. He smiled as he watched you struggle to put shoes on without sitting down before loping of the landing and down the last half a flight.

“Hi,” you murmur, shrugging into your coat, “Sorry. I woke up late.”

“It’s fine, Baby girl,” he said kissing your head.

“I won’t be gone late,” you tell your uncle, standing on your toes to kiss his cheek.

“Darlin’,” he drawled, “Don’t worry about us. It’ll be fine. I’ll look after my other girls, you just enjoy a day off.” He shooed the two of you out the door gently and Bucky put his arm around your shoulder, stealing a soft kiss hello.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, “Ma’s excited.” You smile a little and he kisses your nose. He’s not used to someone being so quiet but then, he supposes that he’s doing okay reading you. You look a little anxious but happy to see him. 

He helps you up into his truck and takes the opportunity to pop you lovingly on the backside. “Bucky!” you squeak.

“Sorry, baby girl. Just appreciating a work of art,” he chuckles.

He steals another kiss before he buckles himself in and grins at you, “You’re always so pretty,” he murmurs, “I promise I’ll get a hair cut… maybe some new clothes.”

“Why?” you ask, brushing hair out of his eyes.

“Can’t have you embarrassed by me,” he said, “Walking around covered in grease and shit.”

You take his hand, kissing the calloused palm tenderly, “Bucky,” you sigh, “Why would I care about that? You work. You pay your bills. I’m not gonna be embarrassed by that.”

Bucky feels his cheeks color and he feels a warmth spread through his chest. “You got a hoodie I can steal?” you ask teasing. 

He laughs, “Yeah,” he said, backing out of the drive, “Do you want me to bring it to you or do you want to just borrow one and not give it back.”

“I’ll get a hold of it the old fashioned way, thank you.” you tell him. 

“Whatever you want, baby,” he said smiling as you laced your fingers through his.

It was a nice ride. Bucky always liked having a pretty girl riding shotgun. He always wanted that pretty girl to be you.

He helped you down after he parked and stole another soft kiss when you fell against his chest, “Easy, baby girl,” he chuckled, setting you gently on your feet. “I really hope you’re hungry,” he said walking you up the porch steps, “Ma only knows how to cook for an army.”

He walked you into the house and helped you out of your coat before taking off his own.

Winnifred was waiting, eager to hug you and make a fuss. Bucky watched as you maintained your composure, friendly and smiling but plainly a little uncomfortable. “You’re here!” she said, “I hoped Bucky wasn’t pulling my chain. I swear darlin’ he’s been in love with you since that first day of Kindergarten. He used to get so worried when you weren’t in school.”

You blush and Bucky puts his arm around you, squeezing gently. “I- I… it’s nice to meet you,” you say smiling, not sure what else to say. “Ma,” Bucky said, “let her catch a breath. Jesus.”

Winnifred tugged him down by his ear and kissed his cheek, “Don’t you sass me, mister. This is the first girl you brought to eat that is wearing actual clothes.”

You smile a little and Bucky blushes, “Ma,” he groaned.

“It’s alright, Bucky,” you murmur, snuggling into his side. In that moment, he didn’t even care. He was just happy. You were there and it just felt right. It felt like home hadn’t felt since he left for the army.


	8. Chapter 8

Breakfast was fun. You were very quiet and unobtrusively helpful, chipping in the kitchen. It’s sweet, watching you work with his ma, but he realizes what you’re doing. 

if you’re being helpful and most importantly quiet, it’s really likely no one is really going to notice you. Even if it’s just a handful of people. Still, his Ma is on her best behavior. She keeps up a running stream of chatter and doesn’t press on things that make you look uncomfortable to answer.

“I still can’t believe Jack and Judy let you run off to Vermont,” she said, taking a plate from your hand to dry and put away. 

You smile a little sadly, “I think,” you tell her, “Kaity is the reason they let me go. After my mom died and my dad went back to jail, she reminded them that there were worse things that could happen to me here.”

Winnifred stops and stares at you for just a moment and you sigh, “I didn’t stay in Vermont long. Just long enough to build a portfolio for school and then I got a bachelor’s in Art History and Design. Couldn’t get a job then fucked off with the Peace Corps. Once that Contract was out I took a job in Alaska, teaching. But I didn’t stay there long either. Kaity called me so. So I came home.”

She takes the pot you’re holding out and smiles a little, “Well,” she said finally, “I’m sure they’re glad you’re home.”

“Yeah,” you say quietly. Winnifred doesn’t say anything after that. She doesn’t miss the hurt look on your face. The overbright look in your eyes.

“How is Kaity doing?” she asked after a long moment.

“She has her good days and her bad days,” you answer. Bucky winces at the detached tone of your voice and he catches his mother’s eye, quietly pleading with her to back off of it for now. He’d already told her Hospice had been called in. That it wasn’t looking good. That you were clinging to the last fragile hope you had that there was a miracle out there somewhere for her, but every day that hope got more and more brittle.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” she said softly.

“I’ve called a few more doctors and sent her file,” you say taking a deep breath, “hopefully I hear back this week.”

“Ma,” Bucky said clearing his throat, “If you’re done putting my girl to work, I kinda want to take her out for a little while.”

Winnifred sighed, “Fine, Fine,” she groused, teasingly, “I suppose I can let you have her.”

Bucky smiled and kissed her cheek, “Thanks, ma. Breakfast was delicious.” She tugs on his ear, “Get a haircut,” she scolds, “And you take good care of her.”

“I’ll do my best,” he said kissing her cheek again and going to get your coat. He watches as she pulls you into a hug and chucks you under the chin, “Don’t be a stranger, hear me?” she said. 

You nod and she smiles a little, watching Bucky help you into your coat, glad that he hadn’t forgotten being taught good manners. She’s be lying if she said her heart didn’t melt a little watching him kiss the tip of your nose as he wrapped your scarf around your neck too. 

She watches the two of you leave and watches out the kitchen window as he helps you into the truck, taking just a moment to smack you on the ass, chuckling when you yelp at him. She shakes her head and smiles a little as he steals a kiss before shutting your door. He was so soft for you. 

He’d always been soft for you. It was nice to see him actually going out of his way to be soft. On purpose. She’d been afraid that the Army had beat all of that out of him. It had scared her for a long time. He’d always been her wild child. His father’s son. Hard-drinking. A daredevil. Not a soft bone in his body for anyone. Except for his ma and his kid sisters. You, but only if you knew him as a kid. When he came back from the Army, he’d lived like he wanted to die and didn’t have the will to pull the trigger. Then he and the others had founded the shop. He still wasn’t himself. Not like he should be but, watching him now, she could see glimpses of the boy he had been. And of the man he could be for the right girl.

________

In the warm cab of the truck, Bucky takes your hand and kisses it softly. “Where are we going?” you ask, smiling a little. 

“I thought,” he said softly, “That I’d take you back to my place for a while. We could just snuggle up I could kiss you a few dozen more times.” He smiled, “Next time I take you out, we’ll go out out. But I thought you could use a break.”

“That sounds good,” you murmur shyly. 

Bucky grins at you and you feel your heart skip a beat, making you look away trying to get control of the butterflies bursting into life in your stomach. Bucky feels his smile soften a little, “Baby girl,” he says gently, “nothing you don’t beg me for.” He winks at you and kisses the hand he’s holding, “No pressure. I just want to have you to myself for a little while. Maybe get you another nice nap.”

You nod and he kisses your palm. “Besides,” he said teasing, “Pretty sure my ma couldn’t take another pregnancy scare after this last one.”

“What wound up happening with that?” you ask, tilting your head and Bucky shrugged.

“It’s not my problem, Doll,” he said, “Not till I get a DNA test that proves the kid ain’t mine.”

You nod, “Is that likely?” you ask. It isn’t judgemental. It’s just a question. 

He sighed, “At least a little,” he said. “I don’t remember every time we had sex. I thought I used a condom every time.”

He glances at you, “I got tested not long ago too,” he added, “I’m clean. I have the papers if you want to see them.”

You smile a little, “It’ll be okay.” You wish you had a pet name that you liked for him. That’s how you always kept Kaity from worrying. 

Bucky pulled up in his drive and smiled at you a little, “It ain’t much, but it’s home, doll.” he said. Before you could answer he was out of his truck and hurrying around to open your door for you and help you down.

“It’s cute,” you tell him, kissing his jaw. “You’re cute, but I think I might like you better scruffy.”

“Oh?” he chuckled, kissing your nose.

“Your dimples are distracting,” you murmur, cheeks getting pink.

“Well,” he rumbled, “I always did like you distracted. That seems like a good incentive to stay clean-shaven.”

You pout prettily and he lifts you up gently, “Sorry darlin’,” he rumbles, “I haven’t gotten to carry a pretty girl over the threshold yet.” He opened the door easily and relishes the feel of you nestling close, your head on his shoulder and your breath tickling his neck, “I don’t mind,” you murmur.

“Good,” he hummed, setting you gently on his kitchen table to help you get out of your coat and scarf, taking the time to feather light, sweet kisses on your cheeks. “You’re chilly,” he says frowning softly, “Lets get you warm again, huh? I’ll make some coco if you wanna go get the comforter off my bed.”

The wide, soft look in your eyes when you look up at him makes his heart stutter, “Go on, baby girl,” he hums, “go get snuggled in. I’ll be there in a minute.” He helps you down off the table and watches you go setting about heating up milk for coco. He listens to you rattling around in his living room, the thud of your boots hitting the floor. It’s nice. Usually girls don’t spend much time anywhere but in his bed. He doesn’t make them coco. But this. This is nice. He doesn’t even want to add alcohol. All he wants is to get you warm and cozy again. Lost in a haze of comfort for a little while. You’ve lost weight. He can tell. You always lose weight when you’re down. He doesn’t know why you don’t really eat when you’re stressed. Maybe because eating costs money.

When he came into the living room, mugs in either hand, you’d already found a movie on Netflix. Something low stakes and animated. It looked like Disney. It was probably Disney. He settled next to you and put a mug in your hands, pulling you close. You look up at him, steam clouding your glasses with a shy smile. You really are a baby. He kisses the tip of your nose and smiles, “How do you feel, baby girl?” he asks.

“Better,” you answer. 

“Good,” he hums, basking in the feeling of you nestled into his arms. You’re looking at the line work on his arm with interest. It’s a tat he wanted covered. And impulse decision. One he regretted. “Can I have my bag?” you ask.

Bucky grabs it and hands it to you, “Why doll, you got a tattoo kit in there?” You shrug, “I got sharpies. And I apprenticed for a little while in art school. Got all my certifications and shit just… sold my kit for my plane ticket.”

“Have at it,” he says smiling a little. You pull sharpie markers out of your bag and set your mug on the coffee table, surveying his arm carefully. Your touch is light as you feel for raised skin and check out the linework. He watches you, watching you work out a design carefully. Incorporating his good tattoos to make a cohesive image. It’s nice. Maybe not what he had in mind but he likes the focus in your eyes. Your glasses are sliding down your nose and you don’t even notice as you color in your work. He settles back and relaxes, happy to have you here. Happy you’re happy. 

When you sit back and let go of his arm he inspects your work and grins, “This is beautiful work, doll,” he praises. He pushes your glasses up and steals a soft kiss, “I’d definitely walk around with this on my arm.”

You flush at the praise and press another kiss into his lips, “Really?”

“Really,” he says, “It’s not something I would have picked myself but it works. I like the flow. How’d you cover it all with sharpie? That’s some pretty thick line work.”

“I followed your muscles. And played with some contrast and shading… It’s just sharpie so there are places where you can see the black if you squint but… It’s not bad.”

“Beauty and brains,” he hummed, pulling you into his lap and stealing a slow kiss that made you sigh as you tangled your fingers in his hair. “Aren’t I lucky?” he hummed, kissing softly down your throat and listening to the hitch in your breath. “Bucky,” you sigh, “I- I- that’s nice.”

He grins and nuzzles your collar bone, “It’s supposed to be, baby girl,” he murmurs, his fingers finding the hem of your sweatshirt to tickle your belly with soft touches. He really wants you giggly and squirmy. 

What he finds is raised skin and scars. Lines that he knows are self-inflicted. What he gets is you vaulting off his lap looking scared. Scared and backing away from him slowly. “Hey,” he soothes, “It’s okay. It’s all okay.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, backing towards the door.

“No,” he said holding his hands out for you to take, “ I’m sorry. I promised snuggles and kisses. I just. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Or hurt you. Did it hurt? I’m sorry baby.” He glances down at his hand and there’s blood. Not much, but enough. 

“Sweetheart,” he says, “Let’s get you cleaned up okay?”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur.

“I’m not mad, I’m gonna go get the kit, okay? I don’t want then getting infected. You just sit down. Or lie down. Laying down is probably better if it’s your belly.” He goes to get the kit and comes back. You have your arms wrapped around your body, for comfort, he thinks. 

He puts the kit on the coffee table and pulls you close very gently. “Let me see, baby girl,” he soothes, “Let me help you. I just want to clean things up.”

You nod, mutely and he pushes your sweatshirt out of the way gently, shifting you onto the sofa to kneel in front of you. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t a little bit of a shock. A myriad of scars left precious little unmarked skin. There were new marks, seeping a little. Like scaps had broken open. He cleaned it gently and kissed your belly lightly, nuzzling gently. “Baby,” he murmured, “Why’d you do this?”

“It’s the only way I feel better,” you whisper. 

“Are you feeling suicidal?” he asked.

“No,” you answer, shaking your head, “I don’t want to die. I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just wanted to feel okay.”

He nods and kisses your stomach a few more times, nuzzling into the warmth. He doesn’t know what to do. All he knows is that he can’t pull away. He can’t let you think he’s less in love with you now. That’s he scared. 

“When did you do it?” he asked carefully.

“Last night. I couldn’t sleep. I just kept laying there. Listening to Kaity’s breathing. I just… I’m. What am I supposed to do?” you say softly. 

Bucky tackles you gently onto the sofa, pinning you under him, “What you’re going to do,” he murmured, “Is call me when you need someone.”

He kisses you softly and nips your lip, “I don’t care what time it is,” he said, “You call me. I’ll find a way to make it better. I’ll kiss you stupid. You can draw on my arm. I’ll find something for you to eat. Anything, okay? Just… Just call.”

“But-”

“No,” he said, kissing you quiet, “Let me help you, doll. I can build bikes half awake. You can’t keep healing while you’re coming apart under pressure.”

He kisses you again slowly, keeping you pinned under him, when your arms wrap around his neck and your hips roll up to meet his, he kisses you a little more insistently. “That’s good, baby girl,” he panted, “Real good.” You smile a little shyly, cheeks coloring at the praise and he kisses the tip of your nose, “You need me to stop, or can I keep going?” he asked softly.

“Please don’t stop,” you whisper.

“Your wish is my command,” he chuckles, kissing you again, tickling your side and making you giggle.


	9. Chapter 9

“She doesn’t want to be your friend, move along.”

15-year-old Rebecca Barnes starts at the voice that makes this 21-year-old college guy turn from charming to angry in a few seconds. In the back of her mind, she’s grateful. She might have been “blessed” with the body of an older woman but really, all she’s trying to do is get a cup of good cider before she goes home to watch Descendants again. She still loves that movie. It makes her happy.

She half turns and sees you, letting out a sigh of relief. She wishes it were Nat. Because Nat is scary and you. You’re really cool. But Scary? Nah. 

“Who the fuck are you? The police?” the kid sneers, “It’s a free country she can talk to whoever she wants.”

“She doesn’t want to talk to you anymore,” you tell him, “Go strike out with someone your own age.”

Rebecca jumps backwards out of the way as the guy rushes at you, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh god. He’s gonna kill her!” is the first thing that pops into her head. But somehow, the sound of his fist connecting with your face it’s what she hears. There’s a meaty pop and a very masculine bellow of pain and the kid is laying on the ground, writhing in agony and pissing on himself from the pain.

“Becky,” you say quietly, “The cops are gonna be here in a second. Do me a favor?”

“Yeah?” she says trying not to cry.

“Run down to the store. Tell my Aunt Judy I’ll be home late. Then call your brother. I probably won’t need bail but I probably will be late to meet him.”

Rebecca nods, wide-eyed and bolts out the door. You’re calm, standing against the wall as cops show up, hands at your sides. Waiting patiently. You hate cops. You hate dealing with them. It reminds you of some of the worst days of your life. But still, when the officer and the EMTs arrive on the scene you do your best to remain calm.

When a shy Rebecca walks back in and corroborates your story, quietly giving her age as 15, the cop looks at you with something like respect. 

He’s graying now but, you remember him. You’d imagine he remembers you. He’d run into you often enough. A drugs bust here or there. Your mom’s overdose, a week later showing up when Uncle Jack found you laying in a pool of your own blood on the bathroom floor. 

Things that no one can really forget.

Rebecca tucks herself against your side, seeking a familiar adult. Feeling scared but not scared enough to run off and leave you by yourself. She’s looking towards the door. She couldn’t get Bucky but she got Steve and that usually meant Bucky knew about 2 minutes later. When he strolled through the door, she bolted towards him and he hugged her hard, “You okay, squirt?” he asked, looking her over for visible injuries. 

“I’m okay,” she said nodding, still wide-eyed. 

Bucky waited while the police finished up with you, itching to kiss you stupid then ask you what the fuck you were thinking. Then thank you profusely from the bottom of his greasy little heart for looking after his baby sister. 

The cop finishes with you and the EMTs load the kid onto a stretcher to have his arm looked at, unable to figure out what exactly you’d done to it. It looks dislocated but that might not be all the damage. 

Bucky is across the floor and kissing you about two seconds after the Cop’s back is turned. He’s anxious, searching your face and asking “What the fuck?” softly in-between “Thank you.” and “I love you so much.” Rebecca is giggling and Bucky, realizing he has an audience kisses you one more time for good measure before kissing the tip of your nose.

“I thought I was gonna have to call Ma and tell her we were gonna bring you Christmas in jail,” he scolded, “Not like she wouldn’t have done it though.”

You shake your head, “They’re not gonna put me in jail. Not if he came at me first. But, the kid might try and press charges later.”

“That sounds like a problem for future you,” Becky says sipping her reclaimed cup of hot cider.

“I think you’re right,” you say smiling a little.

“How’d you even do that?” she asked.

“Do what?”

“That thing to his arm.”

“Leverage and repressed rage.”

“Oh- what?”

Bucky chuckled and tugged the end of her braid, “I should get you girls home,” he said.

“I’ve got to finish up in the shop,” you say stretching, “But you should definitely get Becky home. Before your mom has time to worry herself sick.”

“Good plan,” Bucky said kissing your cheek, “I’ll see you in a little while?”

“The hospice nurse or Aunt Judy will let you in,” you say nodding, strolling out of the coffee shop and back to the book store, jogging across the street to get out of the cold. 

“I like her,” Becky said, hopping up into the passenger seat of Bucky’s truck. “Ma does too,” she added.

“Yeah, and?” Bucky said, suspicious. 

“Are you gonna Marry her?” she asked, looking up at him innocently. She was 15 and god bless her, she still didn’t have a clue. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment, starting his truck.

“Maybe?” she asked affronted, “Don’t you love her?”

“Becky,” he said trying to be patient, “it isn’t that simple.”

“Yes it is,” she protested, “You love someone, you marry them, you have babies.”

He sighed, “Yeah, but after Kaity dies it’ll be a little hard to marry her if she just up and leaves town.”

That makes her stop, “But doesn’t she love you?”

Bucky knew you did. You’d not said it but, you let him in. You talked to him. You let him help you. You weren’t vulnerable in front of people you didn’t love. You’d shown him that you loved him. There was no judgment when any of his old one night stands tried to get round two when you were out. There was no nagging, just a simple request and an occasional gentle reminder. Hell, you just beat a guy up for his little sister. You loved him, but not saying it was protection. One last little flimsy barrier in case he decided he didn’t want you anymore. 

“Yeah,” he said, “She does. But that doesn’t mean she’ll want to stay here for me.”

“That’s stupid,” Becky protested, “How could anyone want to leave.”

“Becky,” he said gently, “I know you’re too young to really remember any of this. But just trust me. Y/N has reasons to want to leave. She’s got a lot of bad memories here. Shit that would probably give you nightmares. Just… don’t you worry your pretty little head about us okay?”

Becky frowns, pouting but doesn’t respond, turning to look out the window.

_________

Bucky sat on the couch, waiting for you and listening to Kaity and her dad in the other room. He and the Hospice nurse were trying to help her get clean pajamas on so she could come sit with the family and do a little Christmas Eve gathering before you went with Bucky to the Christmas Party that Nat was hosting at the clubhouse. He knew today was a bad day. They had her on a lot of painkillers and she was struggling. Struggling and grumpy and very clearly, she was dying. 

Bucky watched as you shrugged out of your coat and boots, heading to the bedroom and slipping in quietly, “I’m sorry I’m late, Cat- Cat,” you murmur, “C’mon. Let’s get you dressed okay? Then you can sleep for a little bit while Aunt Judy and I get dinner around.”

“I’m so tired, dolly,” she half sobbed.

“I know,” you answer, “But you’ll sleep better in some clean jammies.”

Bucky can’t look at Jack as he slips out, leaving Kaity in your loving hands. The big man has aged about 10 years in the last month and Bucky can’t fault the guy for fixing himself a drink, though he declines one himself, still keeping to his policy of not drinking when he’s with you. 

When you slip out after getting Kaity settled in, bucky stands up and pulls you against his chest, hugging you hard. He’s convinced you might be one of the bravest people he’s ever met. And even brave people need some calm in the storm. When you bury your face against him and breathe him in, he rubs your back slowly and kisses your head.

After a long moment, you let him go and pad towards the kitchen to start putting food out and getting things warmed up. Jack catches your hand and squeezes gently, “I’m glad you’re home for Christmas, Darlin’. It’s never right without you.”

You smile a little and head into the kitchen. You don’t say what you’re thinking. That it still isn’t right. That it’ll never be right again. That you wish you’d tried to die a little harder so you wouldn’t have to watch your family torn apart in slow motion. That in the back of your mind, this is all retribution for something you did. What if it really is your fault. If Kaity got cancer from like meth exposure. Something that she’d only have gotten from your house second hand. 

“Dolly?” Bucky finally asked in the quiet. Cat-Cat, he understood. It was a cutesey name. Probably the way you mispronounced Kaity as a toddler. 

Jack smiled a little and walked to the mantle, picking up a well-loved photo in a frame. Almost four-year-old Kaity holding a very, very, tiny baby. “Y/N’s parent’s lost custody of her the first time before she was even out of the hospital… So when it was time for her to come home, she came to us. We had space and Judy was still at home with Kaity all day so someone could care for her… She was so small that Kaity thought she was a baby doll. Didn’t think she was a real baby and asked me where her batteries went.” He sighed, “And so the name just kinda… stuck.”

Bucky looked at that picture and tried to reconcile it with the woman in the kitchen. He couldn’t. And he couldn’t imagine not loving you enough to be around for you. Jack put the photo back and sighed, “This is killing her,” he said quietly, “Watching Kaity suffer. It’s been awful on her mom and me, I’d give anything to trade places with my daughter. But. Son, when Kaity does pass, you watch that one like a hawk. We- I found her that first time.” He takes a deep breath and a sip of his drink, “We thought she was fine. She was so grown up. Handled everything so well. Went back to school. Was passing all her classes still… But god. If that didn’t scare the life out of me. I don’t, to this day, know what was going through her head going back to that house. I think. I know she thought no one would ever find her. It’s a miracle she’s still alive.” Jack is watching you work and shakes his head, “If we lose her too,” he said softly, “I don’t know what we’re gonna do.”

Bucky doesn’t know what to say and swallows hard, staring uselessly into the kitchen where Judy’s joined you. 

“Kaity left her the shop, and the house is hers according to the land trust,” Jack said quietly, “The shop… She can sell if she wants. I just. We want her to be happy.”

“Me too,” Bucky said quietly.

_______

At dinner, Kaity can’t be gotten out of bed. She’s just too tired to get up, so you sit with her, cuddled up next to her to watch Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer like you do every year. Bucky waits patiently, helping himself to a little more to eat and trying not to think about how little he’s been able to get you to eat and how many times you’ve turned a little green just minutes after you’ve eaten and had to find a bathroom. Your plate is still mostly untouched, you nibbled a little between putting things on Bucky’s plate and fussing over the rest of your family, but there’s nothing missing hardly. 

When Kaity falls asleep as the credits roll, you tuck her in and slip out, hugging your aunt and Uncle, “I won’t be out late,” you tell them, “And don’t forget. I put extra blankets in the hall closet for you and the breakfast stuff in in the top shelf in the fridge.”

Judy chucks you under the chin, “You just get out of here for a while,” she said, “Go have a little fun. Hell. Stay out all night if you want, we’ll see you in the morning for Christmas presents… go find some mistletoe to kiss that poor boy under.” She winks at you and you blush, shrugging into your coat.

“Whatever you do, just don’t get pregnant,” is all Jack had to say as he scrolled through channels looking for some sports to watch. 

Bucky chokes on his soda for a second and you giggle, making Jack chuckle and wink at him. He was a simple man. He had simple tastes. He liked fucking with people. 

___________

At the Bar, you and Bucky take your normal seats and you very politely order a Shirley Temple, with a smile. Nat rolls her eyes but hands it to you before handing Bucky another soda. “Merry Christmas,” Clint said kissing your cheek before kissing Bucky’s and getting swatted at. 

“Merry Christmas,” you tell him, watching him scuffle with Bucky. No one asked you about Kaity. No one needed to. Bucky had pleaded with them to just let you be about it tonight and that was all they needed to know.

You and Nat trade looks over the bar and she smiles, “Are you going to Winnie’s for Christmas tomorrow?” You nod, “Probably in the Evening,” you tell her, “It’s- it’s Kaity’s last Christmas so I kinda want to spend most of the day with her.”

Nat feels her stomach churn. There’s an eerie finality to hearing you say that outloud after pleading with doctors to help her for so long. Natasha nods and kisses your cheek. “I’m sorry,” she murmurs. You shake your head and wipe tears away, putting on a brave face. You don’t say anything else, but then, you don’t get a chance. 

The band Starts to play and Bucky pulls you into his lap, humming along, and holding you there, at least until they play a slow song and he can drag you giggling and protesting onto the floor. It’s a nice night. Nat coaxes you into a glass of wine and Bucky lets himself have one beer. You win a game of pool against Steve. You and Nat conspire to get Steve and Tony under some mistletoe. And by the time Bucky gets you into his truck again, you don’t want to go home.

“Can we go back to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Bucky nods and watches as you text your Aunt, telling her you’re fine just going to sleep at Bucky’s so you don’t wake Kaity coming in. 

He drives, holding your hand and helps you up the steps. “You okay, baby girl?” he asked softly. 

“I think so,” you murmur.

He helps you out of your coat and kisses your neck softly, “Think so?”

“Bucky?” you ask, your voice barely a whisper. 

“Yeah?”

“I- I just. I love you.” you blurt out.

“I love you too,” he said, kissing your nose, smiling softly, “I always have.”

You smile and kiss his jaw, “Then will you do something for me?”

“Anything, baby.”

“Make love to me?” Your cheeks are burning as you say it, but the wide soft eyes that look up at him make him melt. He cant’ do much else but nod and claim your lips in a tender kiss while he tried to find the words to say.

“Are you sure?” he asks softly, “We don’t have to.”

“Please?” you murmur.

Bucky can’t do anything else after that. You’re in his arms being carried to his bed. The closest soft surface he can find to lay you on before you have time to talk yourself out of it.


	10. Chapter 10

Bucky kissed your nose and brushed hair out of your eyes tenderly, “You don’t have to do this,” he said softly.

“But I do,” you murmur. He cocks his head, “Why is this so important?” he asks gently. When you look away he tilts your chin up, “Don’t get me wrong baby girl, I’m willing. I’ve wanted to do this a long time. I just want to understand.”

“I didn’t have time to go Christmas shopping,” you tease meekly.

“Y/N,” he chuckles, “Really, why?”

“I just want to feel something that doesn’t hurt,” you murmur, “I just want everything to feel normal.”

Bucky kneels in front of you and kisses the hands he’s holding. “Well now I feel used,” he teased, chuckling.

“No- I-” you look shocked and a little panicked and he kisses you quiet lovingly.

“Baby,” he chuckles, “It’s okay. I understand. I do. I spent years chasing tail and drinking to do just that. I just don’t want you to regret doing this now.”

You shake your head blushing, “How could I? It’s you.”

Bucky kisses your hand again and looks up at you, “Alright,” he soothes, “Wait here for me?”

You nod and swallow hard, suddenly nervous.

Bucky kisses your cheek and sets about making sure the room in comfortable, lighting the candles he lights after he cleans his house and adding a few more blankets to the bed for more comfort. He wants you comfortable. Once he has candles lit he flips off the room light and pulls you gently to your feet.

“Do you trust me?” he asked quietly.

“I trust you, Bucky,” you answer, reaching tentatively towards the hem of his shirt to get him out of it. He nods, smiling softly and pulls it off, tutting playfully, “Impatient?”

You blush, “Maybe a little.”

“Well,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna take my time with you baby girl, I been dreaming about you for 20 goddamn years.”

“I- really?” you murmur.

“Really,” he answers, helping you strip him out of his jeans as your hand fumble with his buckle. He doesn’t mind your inexperience the way he had before with some of the women he’d had. He wants you to be comfortable. He wants you to experience this. Experience tenderness. He slows down when he gets down to his boxers and steals a kiss, reaching for your sweatshirt. He really hopes that dimming the lights helps. He knows you don’t like people seeing your scars but he can’t bear not making love to you where he can see you. He wants to see you. Admire you. Lavish affection on. All of you. Even the things you hate. 

When you nod, swallowing hand, he strips you out of your sweatshirt gently and ghosts soft kisses across your collar bones, “Don’t be nervous,” he soothed, “I’m gonna take care of you, baby girl.” When your pants join the head on the floor and you’re half naked in front of him he lays you down on the bed. He doesn’t waste any time, he lavishes soft kisses over every inch of your skin he can reach, looking for places that make you make sounds he likes.

He isn’t disappointed. 

You’re not loud but somehow the ocassional quiet gasp and soft sigh and breathless giggle do more for him than all of Char’s loud moans and screams. That had been for other people, a performance. This? This was all for him and he adored your every tentative touch and shy kiss. “Good girl,” he rumbled, “You’re doing so good for me.”

He palms your cunt slowly, chuckling when your hips jerk, “You’re so wet for me,” he breathes, kissing your belly as he keeps his hand against you, rubbing slowly. It makes you squirm and Bucky watches, enjoying the view for just a moment. “Bucky,” you pant, breathless, “oh fuck- I- don’t stop?”

You look up at him and he grins, “Oh sweetheart,” he rumbles, “that’s good. That’s very good. I wanna make you come for me. Wanna make you come until you can’t take anymore.”

He increases the pressure just a little. His cock aches and he wants to sheath himself inside you and take you both to bliss, but he can’t yet. He wants to see you come. He’s not ever really touching you yet. You’re so sensitive that just this is gonna bring you off for him and he wants to see. He wants to know how you come apart. When you do, he almost loses it. You arch into him, crying out sharply, hands tangling in the sheets with a shudder and a moan that make him groan in response. “Bucky,” you whisper, reaching for him and he scoops you up, bringing you down gently, covering your face in kisses until you giggle. 

“Good girl,” he praises, “You did so good for me, baby. So pretty when you come for me.” While he talks, he strips you out of your bra and panties expertly, taking time to lavish kisses on your bare breasts, licking lovingly at each pierced nipple. “So naughtly,” he rumbled approvingly, laughing when you arch into him for more. You’re blushing as he ghosts his thumbs over the pebbled flesh and he kisses you, “When did you get them done?” he asked.

“A while ago,” you answer, “Some time during art school… It was all a bit of a haze then, to be honest. I don’t really remember.”

He grinned, “Partied a little too hard huh?”

You shrug, “Acid is really fun once you figure out to just chill on the floor and listen to music and look at the pretty lights on the ceiling.”

Bucky snorted, “What’d you listen to?”

“A lot of Janis Joplin. Early Beatles. Elton John… Anything past like CCR just did weird things to the lights. Too cluttered I think.” you answer.

Bucky laughs, “Fucking hippies, man.”

“Hey,” you pout, “Don’t knock it til you try it.”

“Would you ever fuck on acid?” he teased.

“Maybe? I haven’t done acid since college either though.”

Bucky shifts you over to be on top of him and swats you on the ass affectionately, chuckling when you yelp.

“So sensitive,” he murmurs, “I’m gonna have to be careful with you if we ever get adventurous.”

You blush, “Sorry- I,”

“No,” he said sternly, “No apologies baby girl. You haven’t head-butted me in the dick. We don’t have any rules for you to break, I just never realized how… little it takes for you to get going. All that means is I need to pay attention so I don’t do too much and leave you feeling… exposed.” It wasn’t the right word but Raw wasn’t right either. Still, you seem to understand as you nod and snuggle against his chest. Bucky never wants to move. You’re warm. And Naked. And on top of him and he is very, very in love. Everything about you feels right. Feels like home.

And here you are, in his bed, shy and sweet. experimentally kissing his chest and tracing the lines of his abs, your light touch ticklish and arousing at the same time. Bucky lets you have this, kneading your ass and hips in his hands, staying quiet but to praise you when you do something that feels good. Hell. It all feels good. Even you carefully, cautiously touching his aching prick, but he stops you gently, “No ma’am,” he drawls, popping your backside firmly, “As much as I’d love to teach you all about that, that’s for another time. This is all about you baby. I’m not gonna come until you’re wrapped around me.”

“Then why are you still wearing boxers?” you ask, smirking at him.

Bucky’s grin as he flips you onto the bed easily and strips out of his boxers before pinning you to the bed and lavishing hungry, heated kisses down your body, makes your heart pound. The way he’s kissing you and the rasp of his stubble against your skin coaxes a soft moan from your lips and he nibbles lovingly on the inside of your thigh, “Have you ever used toys before?” he asked quietly. You nod, cheeks turning scarlet. “Have they ever gone inside you?” You nod again, biting your lip and he kisses you, “Good,” he said softly, “It means I won’t hurt you. Or at least you’re kinda familiar with the feeling… And it means I have more things to use to make you come and I- oh darlin’ I am a fan of that.”

You giggle and he smiles, settling between your legs, rolling a condom over his prick before pushing himself at your entrance making you gasp. “You’re sure?” he asks. And you nod, claiming his lips in a kiss that makes his brain go foggy. “We’re gonna do this the old fashioned way, baby,” he murmured, “I gotta keep my girl comfortable.”

You nod and he pushes in slowly, relishing the feel of you pulling him close. “That’s it,” he murmurs, giving you time to adjust, “That’s perfect, baby.” When he starts to move, you can’t help but wrap your legs around him and he smiles. You’re a cuddler, he knew. He figured you’d respond pretty well to the pressure of him being on top of you. Of feeling warm and safe. That’s what he’d wanted for you. Comfort. For the first time in his long string of lovers, he could actually say he was making love to a woman. This wasn’t just sex. This wasn’t a fuck. This was love as he looked into your big soft eyes, he felt warm all over. Not just from the exertion. It was something else. It started in his chest and radiated outward. Swirling in his belly like a shot of good whiskey on a cold day and wrapping him up in comfort of his own. 

He keeps the pace steady, covering your face and neck in kisses, basking in hearing you getting close for him again. He knows he could draw this out, keep you hovering in sweet agony waiting for release, but. He can’t brink himself to deny you. Not now. Not when “Please” sounds so pretty on your lips.He lets you come, crying out for him quietly and he follows, kissing you fiercely to keep from being too loud and ruining the quiet, sweetness of the moment. He smiles down at you and kisses the tip of your nose, “Thank you,” he murmured.

“For what?” you ask, burying your face in his neck.

“For this. For trusting me to take care of you.”

“I knew you would,” you murmur.

“How?” he asked, withdrawing from you slowly.

“You never meant to hurt me, Bucky. You’re a good man. Even if you were an asshole as a teenager.”

He snorts, “I’ll be right back.”

You nod and snuggle in under the blankets, chilled now that he’s not near you. Bucky cleans himself up carefully and joins you again, pulling you close.

“I should have gotten you naked sooner,” you murmur, “It’s not fair for someone to look that good.” 

He laughs, and kisses the side of your head as you snuggle close eagerly. “I have similar feelings about you,” he murmured, Frowning when you shake your head. “Baby, it’s true. I know. You hate that you’re all scarred up. But trust me doll,” he paused to kiss your nose, “I been with a lot of girls okay? And none of them. Not one. Has ever been as beautiful to me as you are. None of them have ever made me feel the things I felt just now. Baby, you’re so fucking perfect, please. Please don’t think you’re less than. I promise you, there’s nothing about you that’s ugly.” You look up at him, eyes over bright and he wipes tears away gently. You’re emotional under normal circumstances but right now you’re a little extra vulnerable. He might not have pushed limits, but he’s willing to bet this is still emotional for you on several levels. Hell, he may not be tearing up but he feels a little raw. Not unpleasantly so, mind you, but raw none the less. He smiles gently, “Let’s find a movie, huh? If I keep talking I’m bound to put my foot in my mouth and you need some sleep.” You nod and he finds something to watch. A Christmas Movie. Something calm and low stakes. Something that can lull you off to sleep.

“Bucky?” you murmur, half awake and starting to drop off.

“Hmm?” he answers, tucking the blankets around you.

“I love you.

“I love you too, Baby girl.”


	11. Chapter 11

Bucky leaned on the bathroom door watching you apply makeup to your face, pulling seemingly endless pallets, brushes, and bottles from your bag. “Why’s your foundation not match your face?” he asked.

“Because I’m not gonna go out and kill the Batman later.”

“Huh?”

“If your makeup stops at your neck, you look like a party clown.”

Bucky smiles a little and watched you work for a second and nodded, “You never used to wear makeup,” he mused.

“I never used to have money,” you say shrugging, pouting at him in the mirror. Bucky nods, “How does that work?”

“Does what work?” you ask, starting to blend things in properly.

“Do you get a check from the store?”

You shrug and smile a little, “Theoretically. But. Jack and Judy are paying for the groceries in the house. Kaity won’t let me pay rent. So, like... I just take enough to buy gas and cat food. Everything else I take out of my savings.”

Bucky shook his head, “Baby,” he scolded.

“What?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

“When’s the last time you bought yourself something fun?”

“I buy art supplies and makeup all the time. Online shopping is nice. I can buy pretty things in my underwear.”

Bucky tutted and made a mental note to buy you a little something. Still. He couldn’t be upset. You had his hoodie on and your panties, nothing else. It was a nice view. It was why he’d come to lean on the doorframe. He stayed because he was a little fascinated. Like watching you draw on his arm with sharpies, it was a miracle of artistic skill watching you play with contrasts and colors. If he hadn’t watched you do it, he wouldn’t believe it. You look like an almost totally different person.

When you finished your makeup, he smirked, “How mad would you be if I dragged you back to bed and ruined all that?” he asked.

“Pretty mad. I’d be keeping Kaity waiting,” you answer, smiling just a little as you put things back in your bag.

Bucky winces internally, feeling guilty. For just a minute, he’d forgotten. You were his and didn’t have responsibilities. It wasn’t Christmas and Kaity wasn’t dying. You weren’t putting makeup on like you were getting ready for battle. Armor to protect you from the reality that nothing was ever going to feel right again. 

“Are you ready to go home?” he asked.

“No,” you answer, “But. I need to. I just... I don’t know if I can handle this.”

“Do you want me to stay?” he asked.

You shake your head, “No. I just... I just need to suck it up. It’s not. There’s not anything I can do.”

He nods and wraps his arms around you slowly, “I’ll come by tonight,” he murmurs, “Put something warm in your belly and put you to sleep.” He kisses your neck and shoves his hand in your hoodie pocket.

“Okay,” you murmur, focusing on putting things away to give you time to breathe. 

“Maybe make you come two or three times,” he teased, kissing the spot on your neck that he learned made you shiver, chuckling when you did. “That never gets old,” he rumbled tightening his arms around you.

“Bucky-” you protest weakly

He grins at you in the mirror, “What is it, doll?” he teased, taking his hands out of your pocket to rest them on your hips.

You whimper and he stops moving, not letting you go but not pressing any further. “Baby girl,” he said gently, “Talk to me. What do you need?”

“I need to go home. I’m sorry I-” you take a breath and let it out slowly, “They’re waiting and if it’s another bad day, they’re gonna need me.” You can’t meet his eyes expecting him to be mad and Bucky feels like an asshole. “Let me put on some decent clothes and I’ll take ya home,” he said softly, “And then tonight I’ll come keep ya company... can’t promise to behave. But I’ll be there.”

You half turn to look up at him, all big sweet eyes and a soft smile and he kisses the tip of your nose. “Promise?” you ask.

“Promise,” he answers softly, cuddling you for a second before going to get some jeans and a clean hoodie to replace the one you’d stolen.

He’d never had a girl that asked so little of him. All you wanted was his time. Some attention. A little TLC from time to time. And he felt, strange. It felt like he wasn’t doing enough by not buying you gifts and making extravagant (for him) gestures. Char had been like a magpie. She liked her shiny shit. She liked to be fawned over. Treated like a princess. He desperately wanted to treat you that way. You deserved it. But as far as he could tell, you didn’t wear much jewelry and you worked in a whole store full of books if you wanted books. He didn’t know dick about art supplies of jewelry. And he felt silly buying cat toys. What did you get somebody who’d learned to get by on as little as possible? For Christmas, well. He didn’t know if you’d like it but. It was the only thing her could think of. 

He pulled it out of the closet and set it on the bed, thankful the girls had done the wrapping for him. It looked pretty. All green paper and silver ribbon. Glitter. “Fucking glitter” he groused, brushing it off his sleeve. The inside of his closet looked like a titty bar exploded. 

You pause in the doorway, pulling leggings on, “What’s that?” you ask, cocking your head. “Santa must have figured out where you were,” he said grinning.

“Bucky,” you protest, “I told you not to.”

“And I didn’t listen,” he said simply. “Come on, open it,” he encouraged, “I looked everywhere for it.”

You look up at him and smile, kissing his jaw before sitting next to the box, starting to open it carefully.

“C’mon, we’re not gonna save the paper!” he teased.

“I’m trying not to get glitter on your bed!”

“Doll, there’s been stripper dust on my sheet before. It’s fine.”

You snort and tear the paper off, opening the box carefully, “Bucky,” you gasp softly, “This is too much!”

“No it’s not,” he said grinning as you carefully inspected the new tattoo kit. “I figured if you wanted you could start doing them again. I got bored the other day and looked through the Instagram you post your art on... It was a few years ago and you were learning sure, but you did pretty good tattoos.”

“I dunno, Bucky,” you say hesitating, “It’s really nice but-”

“No buts,” he said, kissing you softly, “I just wanted you to have it if you wanted it.”

“Thank you,” you murmur, blushing as you kiss his cheek.

“Anything for you, doll,” he murmurs, “Honestly I didn’t know what to get for you at all but, then you kept doing a bunch of pretty artwork on my arms and so I thought I’d do this.”

“Even though I told you not to,” you pout.

“Sorry doll,” he chuckled, “I took enough orders in the army. Unless you’re naked I’m probably not gonna let you boss me around.”

“I don’t wanna boss you around,” you protest, “I just knew I wouldn’t have time to go get you what I wanted to get you.”

“Whatever that was, darlin’,” he drawled, kissing you slowly, “It wouldn’t have compared to last night.” Your cheeks burn and he smiles, “That was a dream come true. Literally. Thinking about you was the only thing that got me through basic. And both deployments.” He tugs you into his lap and kisses your head, “I always had a picture in my head of what it’d be like if I saw you again. I’d know exactly what to say. I’d sweep you off your feet and do the whole nine yards... Instead I didn’t even recognize you.”

“I mean, Dolly Parton once lost a Dolly Parton look a like competition to a drag queen, so I can’t really blame you. A new nose, some new hair, and sometimes probably made it a little difficult,” you tell him.

“A new nose?” Bucky asked.

You shrug, “Got my shit busted enough times it needed done,” you tell him.

“I couldn’t even tell,” he said.

“Well, no,” you answer, standing up to get your things around, “That was the point. I just had them get as close to the original as possible.”

“Who busted up your face?” he asked following you.

“Parents a couple times. The last time, it was a guy I’d just started dating,” you don’t look at him, pretending to be preoccupied with your coat. Bucky does his best to breathe. To stay calm. He’s very, very aware of how fragile your emotional state is and how likely you are to jump to the worst conclusion if he looks angry but inside, he wants to reach through time and beat the living shit out of your dad for it. And find the guy that hurt you and snap is legs off. 

“Y/N,” he said gently, tilting your chin up, “I love you.” It’s all he can think of to say. The best way to remind you that you’re safe. 

“I love you too,” you tell him, turning your head slightly to kiss the palm that’s cupping your cheek.

_________

Bucky walks you into the house. It’s quiet but for A Christmas Story playing on the TV and Jack and Judy quietly eating breakfast. You sigh and let Bucky help you out of your coat before padding into the kitchen. This is going to be a long day. It feels like a wake. A really fucking lame wake. The kind of thing Kaity hates.

Bucky accepts hugs and Merry Christmases after you get yours and watches helplessly as you pad into the bedroom to say hello to Kaity.

Judy hands him a mug of coffee, “How was your party?” she asked. “Fine,” he said, “We had a drink and I took her home with me. Watched some movies.”

“No mistletoe?” she teases, handing him a plate to go with his mug.

“I don’t kiss and tell,” he said blushing.

“You’re a good boy, Bucky.”

“Shh,” he hisses, “Don’t say that too loud. You’ll ruin my rep as a drug king pin.”

Jack chuckles, “Son,” he said, “Anyone who believes that is an idiot. Your truck is real nice but it ain’t that nice.”

_________

“Hey, Kaitykat,” you murmur, leaning over to kiss her head, “Merry Christmas.”

She opened her eyes a little and smiled, “You smell like boy.”

“Well I mean. I slept with one and stole his hoodie so, that’d probably do it.” you tell her, smiling a little and curling up on the bed next to her to watch Muppets.

“Slut,” she teased, tugging a hoodie string, “Did he at least go down on you.”

“Kaity-” you start blushing.

“So no,” she chuckled, tucking hair behind your ear. “But did he take good care of you?” she pressed, looking anxious.

You nod, “Yeah,” you tell her, “He did.”

“You used a condom right? I mean. If he knocks you up I’m not going to have any fun making fun of you while you panic taking the test.”

“You’re such an asshole,” you giggle.

“Yeah, but you love me.”

“You know I do, Cat-cat.”

She smiled a little and laced her fingers through yours, “Do you love him,” she asked, laying her head on your shoulder.

“Yeah.”

“Good,” she murmured. For a long moment, Kaity’s quiet, watching Michael Cain find redemption. Trying to gather the strength to go sit out in the living room. “Promise me something?” she asked seriously.

“What?” you answer.

“When he does knock you up, name it after me.” She grins at you and you groan.

“Goddamnit Kaity.”

“What,” she pouts, “You’ll make cute babies.”

“He probably doesn’t even want kids, Kaity. And I don’t think I do either honestly.”

“Why?” she asked, letting you help her into her chair.

“Because,” you answer, kissing her head, “I don’t want to turn into my mother.”

Kaity winces but lets the matter drop. For now. Letting you wheel her out to the kitchen for something to eat. She’s thankful for the pain medicine that makes this possible. Thankful you’re here. That she can watch Bucky fuss over you fire hand. Coffee. Pastry. Anything he can coax into you. She meets her mother’s eye across the table and they nod. Thankful Bucky realizes that you’re losing weight and shouldn’t be. 

Bucky lets you walk him to the door and steals a kiss goodbye. A lingering kiss that makes you sigh, “Be a good girl?” he murmurs, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Yes, sir,” you answer, rolling your eyes. Bucky chuckles and raises an eyebrow, “Careful with that, darlin’. Especially with those pretty red lips.” You blush and he kisses your nose again, “I’ll see you tonight. I love you.”

“I love you too,” you answer, kissing his jaw before he slips out the door into the cold.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky pressed the ice pack Steve handed him against his eye and sighed. He wasn’t exactly sure of the series of events that lead him here. Sitting in the clubhouse with all his friends worrying and no one is sure where you’d gone.

Nat cuddled Salem and tried to comfort the desolate little creature and glared at Bucky, “You’re really fucking dumb, Barnes,” she snarled. 

“Nat,” he groaned, “I didn’t kiss her. She kissed me.”

The redhead practically hissed at him and walked away leaving Bucky to play it all back again in his head. It hurt. You being gone felt like missing a limb. Like part of his soul had been torn out. 

Somehow, he knew that where ever you’d gone it was worse for you. 

In his mind’s eye, he could see three days ago. 

You’d staggered into his arms and burst into helpless sobs. The kind that didn’t even make noise. Deadweight against his chest. He didn’t need to ask. You didn’t need to explain. He tucked you into his bed and held you while your heart had shattered. 

Your best friend was gone and nothing would ever feel right again. 

“I couldn’t watch them carry her out,” you murmur, wiping your nose on your sleeve.

“I know,” he soothed, rubbing the back of your neck. He didn’t try and feed you. He knew you wouldn’t eat. Or be able to sleep. He put something soothing on in the background. Disney, something you don’t need to pay attention to. And when you hide your face in his chest, he holds you closer. Tears keep falling and Bucky can’t help but take mental stock of where the sharp things are in his house. 

The next few days, as you struggle with your aunt to plan a funeral and help them keep body and soul together, watching you shove your pain aside to be a rock. An anchor. That hurts him worse than seeing you cry. You’ve detached yourself from the pain so far that you’re numb. Dissociated. There’s nothing there but painted on smiles and unobtrusive helpfulness. 

“Aunt Judy,” he hears you say, “don’t worry about me. You and Uncle Jack need to go. Get out of here for a while and rest. Take your trip. Kaity would want you to go. She always wanted to see San Francisco.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked chucking you under the chin.

“Hold down the fort,” you answer smiling, “Do what I promised Kaity I’d do.”

She’d kissed your cheeks and hugged you hard. You’d walked into the living room and flopped face-first on the couch, studiously avoiding looking at the room Kaity had occupied at the end. Avoided looking at Bucky who knew there were cracks in your careful veneer. 

The funeral had been a trial. 

It was well attended. Half the town turned out. Friends of Kaity’s. People who had no idea who you were when you stood up to give the Eulogy.

“My whole life, I had two constants,” you start, taking a deep breath, “My life was a mess and Kaity. God love her. Was going to try and fix it.” You smile, taking a second to wipe tears away. “Kaity was, without a doubt, one of the kindest, most selfless people you could ever find. But. If I tell you about all of that, Kaity is gonna haunt me forever. She made me promise not to tell you about all of that, and, for those of you who don’t know, if I can do one thing reliably, it’s keep a promise to Kaity.” Jack snorts behind you and Judy smiles just a little. “I made a lot of promises to Kaity over the years. About a lot of things. But, before she passed, I got permission to break this one in exchange for giving a Eulogy that wouldn’t bore you all to death. Kaity informed me that as much as she loves you all, she doesn’t really want to play casket Tetris.” That brings surprised laughter from a few people and a few damp chuckles. “Kaity gave me permission to finally tell the story of the mysterious brown stain on the ceiling in Aunt Judy’s kitchen.” More laughter, less shocked this time. Bucky knows this hurts. He can see you struggling to keep the promise you made.

“So,” you finish, smiling a little. “I told you that story to tell you this. Because this is the one thing Kaity wanted you all to walk away knowing. Love, much like Dr. Pepper, is meant to be shared. So let’s take the love we have for her and spread it around. Love recklessly. Spread kindness like glitter. And for the love of God, just eat the garlic bread.”

Bucky wants to hug you. You’re trying so hard to hold it together. To keep your voice from cracking. To hold it together for the assembled mass of people that have now started to cry. 

That had been a day. The worst day. And Bucky still. Still couldn’t figure out how it had happened exactly.

He was aware that he had gone to the clubhouse. He’d been trying to set up a nice little dinner. He’d borrowed a backroom and set a table all pretty with candles and had his ma make something you might be able to eat. 

He was just doing some last little things, making it pretty and making sure the room was a good temperature. Not because he expected to get you naked but because you’d now lost enough weight just from the stress that you were always shivering. Sometimes, even with him wrapped around you. It was how you always were as a kid. He realized now that not eating when you were stressed had probably started as a way to exert control over your life and now it was just ingrained behavior. That bothered him.

When he heard the footsteps behind him, he’d thought for a moment it was you, that Nat had just sent you back.

He turned, ready to kiss you, hello and Char lounged in the doorway, arms folded, surveying the scene like she was hunting and had just spotted her prey. “Well. Isn’t this cute,” she hummed.

“And none of it’s for you,” Bucky said calmly.

“Aww, Buckaroo,” she sighed, “I really hoped we could put this aside for the baby.”

“Char, you’re not even pregnant. Or at least I hope you’re not after I watched you pound shot’s with one of Rumlow’s guys at the Time Out.”

She pouted, “Well, we could make a baby,” she purred, stepping closer.

“No thanks,” Bucky snorted, “I’ve got a girl, remember?”

Char rolled her eyes and stalked a little closer, making Bucky realize with a start that this was a back room and his back was to the wall. He tried to resituate himself but there was a table in the way and Char was faster than he gave her credit for. She pinned him uncomfortably between herself and the table, kissing him, hard, forcing her tongue artlessly into his mouth and leaving him struggling to get her off of him without hurting her but her grip was too strong for him to do anything without taking an action that would lead to it being her word against his.

“Bucky, I-”

The voice from the door way makes Char jump back, leaving Bucky with lipstick smeared on his face and looking confused and startled. You stand frozen on the threshold, a look on your face that makes his heart almost stop.

You don’t say a word, you just bolt through the nearest door. Desperate to get away from both of them before either of them see you cry.

“Oops,” Char had said, adjusting her lipstick in a compact mirror.

Bucky can’t even speak. He follows after you, watching from the doorway as your jeep pulls out of the drive. 

“What the fuck did you just do?” Nat said angrily, appearing next to him, holding the basket that Salem liked to travel in.

“I- I just-” He doesn’t get a chance to finish.

Char walks up out of the back and it takes Natasha all of a millisecond to piece together that somebody got caught kissing someone who wasn’t their girl.

To be honest, Bucky isn’t even mad Nat punched him. 

It was nice to know she apparently felt the need to look after you. That she considered you a friend enough to hit him for being an asshole.

_________

It had been 24 hours and no one but your Aunt and Uncle had heard from you. They were tight-lipped as to your whereabouts. Careful to only say you were safe. That it was okay and you were thinking clearly. 

Sam took a seat on Bucky’s other side with a sigh, “Well, I heard from a cop friend of mine,” he said.

“And?” Nat asked anxiously, stroking the little cat.

“The good news is, Y/N is very much alive. The bad news is she’s on a 72 hour psychiatric hold.”

Bucky turned quickly and his head throbbed, “What?” he barked.

Sam sighed, “A precautionary measure,” he said, “I guess she got home, tore her studio apart and was just generally enough of a mess that they had them come take her to the hospital BEFORE she tried to go play in traffic or something.”

“This is all my fault,” he groaned. 

Steve squeezed the back of his neck, “It’ll be okay, Buck. Once her head clears and they let her loose just go explain. You didn’t do anything.”

“I know but-”

“If I ever get a hold of that blonde tramp, I’m gonna kill her,” Nat growled.

“There are no kitties in jail, Nat,” Sam hummed, gesturing to the black cat she was holding like a baby in the crook of one arm.

_______________

“Baby?” Bucky said softly, stopping at the door of the shop. You were on a ladder behind the desk, shelving a book. You half turn and jump down carefully.

You look pale and tired. You look like you need a week on the beach and several good meals. You look sick. Bucky supposes you are and crosses the floor quietly.

“I know you’re probably still pissed at me but-”

You shake your head, “Who hit you in the face?” You wrap your arms around yourself, shivering and he closes the shop door to block the draft, “Nat,” he answers.

“Why’d you do it, Bucky?” you ask softly. 

“I didn’t-” he started, reaching for you, stopping when you back up. “I- I would never do that,” he murmured, “But when I was in the back, trying to set up dinner, Char came back and. Well, darlin’ she set me up.”

You look up at him, still shivering and bite your lip.

“She wanted you to find us like that,” he murmured, “She wanted to hurt you, knowing that would hurt me.”

You nod and take a tentative step forward.

“I was so afraid when you wouldn’t answer your phone, doll,” he murmured, careful to keep his voice quiet. Careful to remember that you hadn’t been in your right mind when you saw them. That your reaction was all emotion. You’d just buried your best friend. Everything was raw and too real. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“It’s okay,” he soothes, “You were safe. You went someplace safe when you needed it. And you gave Nat a reason to stay out of jail leaving Salem with her. Otherwise, Char’d be dead right now.”

He held out his arms again and wrapped you up slowly when you walk into them, hiding your face against his chest. 

“I’m sorry I ran away. I should have known better,” you murmur, “She assaulted you and then I just ran off. And Nat punched you in the face.”

Bucky rests his cheek against your hair and hugs you tighter, “Shh, don’t you worry your pretty little head,” he scolds gently. “You weren’t thinking clearly, sweetheart. No one was. I’m just glad you’re home. And safe. It makes it a lot easier for me to take care of you.”

You look up at him and he kisses your nose, “Baby girl, when’s the last time you ate?”

“Yesterday some time,” you murmur.

He tuts softly, “It’s no good, Y/N,” he says, “Baby girl, let’s get you food okay? You need to put something in your belly. How about you close up early and I take you home? I’ll cook dinner and you can get a kitty cuddle.”

“I’d like that. I missed my kitty.”

He smiles a little, “Then let’s get you home, huh? if you talk real nice I’ll even run you a bath.”

“With bubbles?” you ask, nuzzling his chest, cuddling closer, seeking comfort.

“With bubbles, princess,” he chuckles, basking in the feeling. It soothed the fear that had gnawed at him. That his one chance had ended. That you wouldn’t believe him. He couldn’t help it, he thought a quiet thank you to Kaity, wherever she was. Thanking her for keeping you safe, even now. If her parents hadn’t come by the house when they did, Char’s little stunt might have been the last straw. And that, Bucky reflected, was an unbearable thought.


	13. Chapter 13

Bucky wasn’t sure what he was doing. He hoped he was doing it right, as he ran water into the tub. He rummaged around under the sink, looking for bubbles and bath salts and things he was only vaguely aware of. He wanted this to be okay but, as the bubbles filled the tub and everything started to smell soft and sweet, he thought it might be. 

“Baby,” you murmur, making him turn slowly, “It’s okay.”

He half turns and smiles. He got you undressed and put you in the snuggly robe on the back of the door. “I know,” he said softly, “But I’m gonna do this anyway, princess. If we get you relaxed a little, it’ll be easier for you to eat.”

You nod and shiver, making Bucky stand up and turn off the water, testing it one more time. “Will you stay with me?” you ask, looking up at him.

He smiles and brushes a lock of hair out of your face, “Of course, baby girl,” he answers. “I’d love to have a pretty naked girl covered with bubbles,” he hummed, untying your robe gently. He kissed your nose and helped you into the tub, into the warm water to make sure that you didn’t get too chilled. Once he has you in the water, he strips out of his shirt and his boxers settling behind you and pulling you against his chest. 

“Bucky,” you murmur, relaxing into his touch, “This is nice.” He kisses your neck and cuddles you, “It is,” he murmured, “I missed you. It felt like I was missing a limb.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, looking up at him.

“Shh,” he soothes, “Don’t be sorry. I’m glad you’re safe. Now we just gotta get you healthy, okay? We’re gonna start with getting some food in you and getting you comfortable.” He doesn’t mind your quiet. He can feel you relax as he lavishes attention on you. It feels better to him, having you warm and comfortable in his arms, cradling you close and using all these fancy products on your skin. 

Once the water starts to get too cool for comfort, he helps you out of the tub and chafes your skin dry with a towel before wrapping you back in your plush robe to keep you warm.

“I smell like a girl,” he grouses, making you giggle. 

“Sorry,” you murmur, kissing his jaw. 

“You can make it up to me by picking a not Disney movie,” he said, swatting you on the backside to make you yelp. He dries himself off quickly, anxious to stay by your side. Eager to keep fussing over you and make sure that you get what you need to feel okay.

He listens to your feet on the stairs and plans. He doesn’t know what to do next. He doesn’t know what to feed you, but he’s gonna try. When he gets downstairs, you’ve found him a Fast and the Furious movie to enjoy and he kisses your head, going to the kitchen. Someone, probably your Aunt, made sure there were groceries for you when you came home. He was grateful as he started to get things around to make some comfort food. Chicken and noodles and mashed potatoes. Maybe some peas to give you a real vegetable. That works. And, if you did throw up after trying to eat it might not be as bad. He nodded to himself putting Chicken on the stove before going to join you on the couch. You snuggle into his side and smile a little.

“You look sleepy, Princess,” he says, tucking your blanket around you, savoring the feel of your head on his bare chest and your fingers idly tracing the lines of his tattoos. It’s just light touches, slightly ticklish, but sweet. “I am,” you murmur, “It’s hard to sleep in the hospital.”

“Can you sleep now?” he asked softly.

“If you’re with me,” you answer, kissing his chest softly. “You feel safe,” you murmur. He always had, even when he was kind of an asshole. You had a sense that he looked for you. Though it never made sense why. 

“So close your eyes, Princess,” he hummed, “Take a little nap and by the time you wake up, I’ll have some chicken and noodles.”

“I love Chicken and Noodles,” you yawn.

Bucky feels himself preen a little and kisses your forehead, “Good.”

He holds you until you fall asleep, playing with your hair and enjoying the feeling. Sometimes, it still blew his mind, how intimate something this simple could feel. He’d slept with a lot of women. He’d done the whole Netflix and chill date. But this was different. This was something else. Something new. And it felt good. He felt like he was home. It took an absurd amount of effort to shift you off of him at the end of the movie to check the chicken. He doesn’t want to get up. You’re so warm and sweet-smelling. He takes a moment, tucking you in and going to finish dinner. Switching the TV over to something calmer for background noise. He started the potatoes, thankful that his mom had insisted that he learn to feed himself. Because god love you, Coffee was the most complicated thing you knew how to make. But then, the only thing you ever watched your mom cook was meth. You’d tried to make him spaghetti once and damn near burnt the kitchen down using a pot that was too small and not breaking the noodles. After that, your job was setting the table. He monkeyed around, trying to remember if you like sweet things. If there was something sweet you might like to eat and settled on the cheesecake mix in the pantry. And some Cherry topping. Sweet and tart. He nodded to himself. That worked. It suited you best. 

It scared him to think about how much weight you’d lost, how frail you felt, curled shivering against him. Like a baby bird. Your clothes, he knew were all too big. But, much like high school, most of what you wore was baggy and form concealing. He didn’t like thinking about how many times you’d been this fragile and he hadn’t noticed. “Baby steps,” he sighed to himself, putting the cheesecake in the fridge. 

The rustle of fabric makes him half turn. You’re standing in the doorway, sleepy-eyed and your glasses halfway down your nose. “Hey, baby girl,” he said smiling, “you hungry?”

You shake your head mutely and curl up in a kitchen chair, your blanket wrapped around you like a cape. He tuts softly and kneels in front of you, “Will you try and eat for me?” he asked. He cups your cheek lovingly and frowns, you feel a little over warm. “I can’t have you wasting away on me,” he encourages, “Ma would be pissed at me. And I don’t think the girls would be too happy either.”

He hopes that that works. He’d seen Kaity use that trick a few times. Gentle exploitation of your need to keep someone out of trouble. Or help someone. You nod and kiss his palm, making him smile. “Good girl,” he hums, kissing your nose. “I made dessert too,” he said, proud of himself, “Cherry Cheesecake.”

“I’ve never had it,” you tell him yawning.

“Then you won’t know if I fucked it up. Rad.” he said, kissing your nose again and going to make you a plate.

You snort, “I’m sure you did fine, handsome.”

“We’ll see,” he said, putting a bowl in front of you and kissing your head. “Gotta get some meat back on your bones, Princess. You’re gonna freeze to death at this rate.”

“It’ll be fine. Eventually, there’ll be like two months where I don’t stop eating. Then you’ll be trying to get me to go running,” you tell him.

Bucky snorted and gave you a glass of ginger ale to try and keep your stomach settled, “I’m not gonna fuss at you for being less breakable,” he said sternly, “all I want is a healthy Princess. However, you get there.” 

You take a tentative bite, making sure you won’t burn your mouth and nod, “This is good,” you tell him, taking another bite. It’s cute watching his chest puff up a little bit. He’s so fucking proud of himself. You wish you could tell Kaity about it. Tell her how you’d happily eat anything he made you and tell him it was great just to watch him look like that.

Dinner is quiet, Bucky sits across from you and helps himself to seconds before you’re half-finished with your first bowl. Your stomach has shrunk. A lot. It’s slow going and your stomach aches before you get finished. When you push your bowl away and groan softly, Bucky kisses your head, “Trash can?” he asks.

“No,” you murmur, “Just really full.”

He tuts softly and very gently rubs your stomach, “So we’ll go lay on the couch for a while. Then I’ll feed you dessert.”

“You’re not gonna be happy until I gain all 30 pounds back, are you?” you groan. 

“I just want you healthy again,” he says, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t think about how small your stomach probably is right now.” He takes your bowl to wash it and gets you another glass of ginger ale, “You didn’t have to eat it all, you could have stopped.”

“You just looked really happy that I liked it,” you protest, cheeks coloring. 

He laughs and picks you up gently, “At least now I know how to get you to eat.”

“Stop exploiting my neuroses,” you pout.

“Absolutely not,” he said kissing your nose, “Not if it’s for your own good. I gotta take care of my girl.” He sits carefully on the couch, mindful of your stomach ache, and tucks your blanket back around you. Some day, when you feel better, he reflects, you’re going to make a good Submissive. He’d played with those dynamics before. He liked kinky sex. He liked giving orders. And, he reflected as he rubbed your stomach and queued up things for you to watch, he liked having someone soft. Someone who needed him to be soft. He smiled when you started snoring lightly, your head on his shoulder. “Good girl,” he praised in a whisper. Some day, he was really going to enjoy pushing limits


	14. Chapter 14

It had taken some convincing. And some bribery. And a promise that you could paint whatever you wanted as long as it looked cool and not too girly, but Nat had gotten you to agree to paint a wall of the clubhouse. An accent wall. A mural. Whatever but, you were doing it, even if you were still currently drawing out your designs.

Keeping busy was apparently your secret. Being busy and taking your medication which Bucky could respect. You’d politely declined therapy, stating that if you ever went to a therapist, they’d probably just throw you in the dumpster and inform your family to just start over. Still. You were steadily gaining back some healthy weight and had the energy to do things. It was a start.

A good start, Bucky reflected as he inspected the trail of love bites you’d left on his chest. He shook his head. You could be such a brat on your good days, pouty and mischevious. It made him itch to turn you over his knee and spank your bottom until it was the perfect shade of red to suit his mood. Still. He was happy that you were stable. That you were coping with things.

It didn’t mean there were no bad days, where all your depression and anxiety and pain were so loud that all you wanted to do was curl up in bed and cry yourself back to sleep. On those days, he was thankful for Salem. She’d stand on your back and scream until you got up to feed her. Or fill the water bowl she knocked over. You’d let yourself go without food or water but you’d never do that to your cat. He’d learned to let you get up and do it. Once you fed Salem, it was a shower. Once you showered, you got dressed. Once you dressed it was coffee, and by then, you felt alive enough to be on your feet. Routine helped, he realized. And having him there. He spent more time at your house than he did at his anymore. Not that he minded. Your bed was more comfortable.

Bucky changed his shirt and walked back out to the front. It was abnormally quiet. Nat had turned the Jukebox down and everyone appeared to be waiting for something. “Nat what-” he asked, looking to where Sam and Clint had subtly posted themselves near you as you worked, momentarily oblivious.

Nat shook her head and quietly indicated where Char and her Posse had rolled up, clearly intending to cause trouble. Char was still sore that her plot to Baby trap Bucky hadn’t worked. And more sore that the new rumor in town was that he moved in with you because he’d knocked you up and was going to help take care of the baby. The only explanation the biddies at the beauty shop could come up with for the sudden healthy flush in your face and a little bit of weight gained. “Jesus Christ,” Bucky groaned, “Nat, can’t you throw them out?”

“I could. But honestly, I don’t wanna miss the show,” Nat said smirking.

“Nat, Y/N’s never been in a fight.”

“Yeah she has,” Nat snorted, “Just because she doesn’t advertise it doesn’t mean she can’t fight… I mean Char runs her mouth all over town and hasn’t realized that if you break your hand throwing a punch you probably did it wrong.”

“Fuck me,” he sighed, starting over to you, “I can’t-” But he doesn’t get to finish that sentence. Char’s perfume clogs his nose and he has this sense of impending doom in the bit of his stomach, “Hey, Buckaroo,” she purred, “Looks like your pet psycho is out of the looney bin still, and it paints. How sweet.”

Bucky can’t even answer. Before he can blink you’re standing between them. You might have to look up a Char but there’s no doubting that you’re not intimidated. “Nat,” you ask, “Did you pull the string on her back? I didn’t know the new line of Prosti-tots came out.”

Char reared back to hit you, her girls whipping out phones in the background and Bucky can’t do anything. There isn’t time. She gets a hit in. A bad one. It misses because you turn your head to deflect it, reaching up while she’s angry. Distracted. And grabbing the back of her head. Faster than Bucky thought possible. You bounce her face a few times off the bar and shove her backward over the nearest table, “Any of you come near him again and I’ll show you psycho, you stupid cunt. He said no. That’s it. It’s over.”

One the floor, Char is mewling and screaming and her girls are struggling to get her off the floor. They yell a bunch of inarticulate things about you going to pay and you bing a bitch but you don’t speak as they’re escorted out. You don’t have to. You didn’t throw the first punch.

Nat wordlessly hands you a Shirley Temple and you take a sip, “Thanks.”

“Any time,” she snorted, “Just don’t fuck up my face.”

“Please. Her plastic surgeon fucked that up long before I got to it.”

Bucky looked from the makeup smeared on the bar back to you and pulls you against his chest, kissing you hard. You make a soft surprised noise against his lips and he pulls you closer with a soft growl, ignoring a chorus of whistles and people telling him to get a room. He doesn’t care. He needs to tell you how fucking hot that was. How fucking scared he’d been. A visceral, knee jerk reaction to someone that had actively tried to ruin his life to make him stay with her. Being with you. Someone who really loved him had made him realize how fucking abusive Char was. She didn’t feed him shots at the bar so he’d have a good time. She did it so she could control him. All her demands and mood swings and tantrums were meant to keep him on the line. Craving approval she’d never really give him. He’d assumed relationships were supposed to be that exhausting. 

Until now. Until you showed him what mutual affection and respect was supposed to look like. Even on your worst day. Even when you felt like dying. You made sure he had what he knew you loved him. You’d bring him a coffee or send him a picture of a cool ass bike you saw online. Smudge sleepy kisses against his lips when he tucked you into bed. Hell, doing the dishes after he made supper. 

When he finally pulls away, needing to breathe before he throws you over his shoulder and sets you on the nearest flat surface to fuck you stupid, you look up at him wide-eyed and breathless. “Thank you,” he murmurs, rubbing your kiss swollen lower lip with his thumb. 

“Anything for you, handsome,” you answer, kissing his thumb.

Bucky doesn’t have to explain. You know what abuse looks like. How it feels to long for approval and never get it. How it feels to be with someone you love and still feel alone. How easy it is to tolerate the abuse you believe you deserve, because how could You. You of all people ever deserve better. Your reaction to the look on his face had been instant. You’d heard him in the quiet. And Her. When you turned and saw the hunted, anxious look on his face at the corners of his eyes and in the shape of his mouth, you just couldn’t sit back and let Nat do it. He didn’t belong to Nat. He belonged to you. He was Yours and you’d be damned if that woman was ever going to touch him again.

“Come watch me work?” you ask, wanting his company but not wanting to keep him from his friends. 

“Can I heckle?” he teased kissing your nose.

“Only if you make it up to me later,” you tell him grinning.

“Deal.”

____________

“Buck,” Steve asked later, when you were sitting at the bar, very intently drawing on the arm he didn’t need to drink his beer, “What the fuck is she doing?”

“Designing a cover up for the bullshit tats you didn’t talk me out of.” he answers.

“Why?” he asked.

Bucky shrugged, trying to keep his arm still.

“Bucky stop moving,” you scold.

“It tickles right there,” he protested.

“Clients,” you grouse.

Steve walks around the stool to peer over your shoulder, “Hey, that’s not bad,” he said, “Y/N you do tats?”

You shrug sitting up to stretch your back and push your glasses up, “I did an apprenticeship but didn’t stay with it. The shop stole a shit load of my art. Then tattooed it. Badly.”

“Ever done any pin-ups?” Clint asked.

“I’ve drawn them,” you tell him, “I toyed with the idea of putting one over all the scarring on my thigh but couldn’t work out how to incorporate the scarring and make it look right.”

Clint nodded, “Would you do one on me?” he asked.

You shake your head, “Bucky bought me a new kit but it’s been a long time since I tattooed skin. I’d have to do some work on pig skin before I’d feel comfortable tattooing anyone.”

“Hell,” Nat said taking a pull of her beer, “That alone means you’re probably a better artist than the scratchers in this hell hole.”

You shrug, “Probably but, I’d just feel more comfortable with some time to practice before I mess with someone’s skin.”

“Where do you even buy pigskin?”

“Butchers,” you answer, inspecting your work on your boyfriend’s arm and nodding to yourself, uncapping a green marker. 

Bucky makes a mental note to track some down somewhere, He’d love it if you’d put a tattoo on him. Even if it isn’t a big one. Maybe just a little something somewhere. Lip prints on that spot on his thigh that made him giggle when you brushed your lips across it. A morning-glory, your favorite flower on the inside of his wrist. Something to remind him he belonged to you, even when he didn’t feel good enough. Even if people stared at him when he took you out for dinner. The big scary biker that smelled vaguely of oil and gasoline no matter how hard he scrubbed. It clung to him. The calloused hands that were almost never clean enough to not make him feel like he was going to leave dirt on the table cloth. He felt awkward and out of place while you looked clean and fresh in a blouse and cute skirt. He’d like the morning glory idea. He’d have to have you draw one on him so he could get it tattooed properly. He liked having a reminder where he could see it. 

“Baby girl?” he murmured, “You got any room left to draw something for me?”

“A little,” you say, pushing your glasses up, “Got something you wanna take on a test drive?”

He smiles a little and kisses the end of your nose, “I just want a little flower,” he said, “A morning-glory.”

Your cheeks heat a little and you go through your bag of sharpies for the colors you need. “Where’d you want it? You don’t have much real estate for me to work with.”

“Right here,” he said pointing to a spot of bare skin on the inside of his wrist. You nod and start drawing. “You know this won’t stay on there right?” you remind him.

“I guess that just means you’ll have to keep drawing it on for me. Least til you actually want to bust out your kit.” he hums, leaning down to kiss your hair.

Clint made a noise suggestive of gagging and Nat smacked him in the back of the head, quietly trying not to giggle. This was possibly the cutest thing to ever happen in her bar and she was really, really thankful she got pictures. Your kids some day were gonna need to see their dad look at you like he was right now.


	15. Chapter 15

“Baby,” Bucky asked sipping water, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You look up from the wall you’re painting on and adjust your glasses, “Painting, why?”

“I know that you’re painting, what I mean is why are you painting at 4am?”

You glance at the clock on the stove and sigh, “I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, “So I came downstairs so I wouldn’t wake you up. I guess I fell down a hole once I started sketching.”

He sits down in a kitchen chair and looks at your work. A field of sunflowers along the bottom of the wall framed by blue sky. “It’s nice, Princess,” he says gently, “But why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I’ve had nightmares every night this week,” you reason, “You need sleep too.” 

He frowns, “You’re supposed to wake me up, sweetheart,” he scolds, “All we have to do is get breakfast at Ma’s house. Besides. Today is a special occasion.”

He sets his cup down and pets his lap, quietly telling you to come sit. His heart warms when you do. He didn’t have to try very hard to convince you to try letting him dom you. He knew he was gentle as far as Doms went, but then, that was probably why you responded so well. if he’d been too hard on you, he probably would have hurt you, permanently.

“Do you know what today is baby girl?” he asked wrapping his arms around you. You shake your head and snuggle close, wanting the comfort of being close to him. Of feeling protected.

“Today,” he said, taking your hand gently and turning your wrist over to kiss a newly purple scar tenderly, “Is one month since you promised not to hurt yourself anymore. And you’re almost back up to your starting weight.” He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, “I’m so proud of you Princess.” He watches your eyes light up as you flush at the praise and he melts a little.

You’re thriving with the support system you have now. People who look out of you. Someone to come home to when the world is too hard and you’re overwhelmed. Bucky really is proud. He traces idle patterns on the inside of your thigh with his thumb and grins when you murmur his name. He also loves how sensitive you are. “How should we celebrate, Princess?” he asked.

“I just wanna spend the day with you,” you murmur, looking up at him, cheeks coloring, “Just the two of us.”

“Doing what, Y/N?” he asked chuckling. He knew what. He knew exactly what you wanted. It was what Sunday was for as the only day the two of you didn’t have to work. He just liked how shy you were about anything approaching dirty talk. You liked hearing him say dirty things. Especially when he growled them in your ear or just casually listed when he was going to do to you as he bound you to the bed. 

You bite your lip for a second and he pinches your hip, “You watch biting that lip, doll,” he rumbles, “Or I’m gonna find work for that mouth to do.” When you stop, he gentles his tone to something he uses to coax you, still deep but less of a growl. Leaning close to your ear as he shifts you closer, “Tell me what you need, Princess. Let me reward you, huh? I wanna take care of my girl.”

You shiver in want and Bucky smiles a little, rubbing the swell of your bottom lovingly. “I want to play,” you say quietly. You want to be a seating panting mess. Oversensitive gasping for air as tears run down your face. You want to let go and let him do what he does best. “Is that all?” he murmurs. You know he’s teasing you but you can’t bring yourself to care as he parts your thighs gently to palm your cunt, Your clit is already throbbing and you whimper softly making him swat the side of your thigh lightly, “Use your words,” he scolds, “You know I won’t give you anything if you don’t tell me it’s okay.”

“I- I want. I want you to fuck me,” you say, cheeks burning. “I- I n-need you to make me come.”

“Good girl,” Bucky praises, caressing the damp crotch of your panties lightly. “I’d love to do those things for you, darlin’,” he kisses your neck and sucks lightly, not enough to mark you but enough to make you sqirm. “But,” he says, “You broke a rule.”

“Bucky,” you whine.

“Rules are rules, Princess. You’re supposed to wake me up when you have nightmares. Or trouble sleeping,” he explains, taking his hand away from your needy, aching sex, “It’s to keep my Princess safe.” You whimper and he kisses you softly, “I know you were safe this time. I’m proud of you. But, you broke a rule. So now you have to wait to come until after breakfast.”

Bucky can’t let you see him smile when you pout at him. He loves your bratty streak. It’s a challenge and he’s always loved a challenge. He never knows which Princess he’s going to get. The one that needs reassurance and lots of love or the one that needs a firm hand and someone to make her behave. Recently, as you’ve gotten more comfortable, your bratty side’s been more active. But there are days when you need him to support you. Days you just want to climb into his lap and be coddled and the kinkiest thing you want him to do is warm himself inside you while you lay on his chest and be held.

“What do we say?” he prompts, swatting your ass.

“Yes, sir,” you pout, eyes narrowing.

Bucky thrills a little. You’re gonna be a handful today and he can’t wait.

_________

Bucky sips coffee and rests his head on your side. You’re sitting on the arm of his chair explaining the Charity you’re trying to start. A passion project Kaity had wanted to start and not gotten around to before she died. A way to feed hungry kids and criminals with non-violent, not sexually related crimes a way to make some money. You pet his hair absently and Winifred melts a little.

Her son is turning into the man she always wanted him to be. He doesn’t come to breakfast hung over and grumpy. He’s sleepy a lot. But it’s not from being out all night doing god knows what. She knows what he’s doing and she’s a sweetheart who teaches her girls how to do makeup and gave them after school jobs at her book shop. He’s happy and most importantly, he realizes how unhappy he was. That he was punishing himself for what happened to his unit. That he felt worthless and was doing his best to ruin his life for want of something to give him the stability he craved. 

“Why’s that a program Kaity wanted to start?” she asked,

You shrug, “Most of the offenses in the county are drug-related. Once people get any drug-related felony, their kids go hungry a lot of the time because their household becomes ineligible for food stamps. So they turn to harder and harder crimes and sink deeper and deeper below the poverty line. I mean shit. She watched it happen in real-time with my parents. I was lucky. I had a place to go, but not every kid in our school had that option. And it’s only getting worse as factories shut down and college kids take up more and more resources without giving anything back. I mean I know three mom and pop shops over in Burlington street that were literally priced out of their building because rent got too high when the new fancy apartments went up in the old Little Crow factory. And that’s just the last month.”

Bucky winces, “Who closed down now?”

“Dan’s Down Town, Juniper’s, and Red Moon,” you answer.

“What’s White Rabbit going to do?” Becky asked.

“I mean. Kaity- I own the building. I have to keep up on payments but I’m not gonna get priced out,” you explain. “Jack and Kaity bought the building for 100k and Jack and his guys did all the repairs. The building WAS the old community playhouse. That’s why it’s shaped so weirdly… Judy and I are working on getting it on the register of historic places since it’s almost 150 years old. That way, at least if anything does happen and we lose the shop, they can’t demolish the building to put in like… a 7-11 or something.”

Winifred smiles, “I’m glad to know there’s something in place. You’ve got a beautiful shop.”

“Kaity picked a good building,” you say nodding, “And we’re doing pretty brisk business online. Wine moms really like feeling metropolitan when they buy art while sightseeing with their kids.”

She snorted, “That and you’re a talented artist,” she scolded. Your cheeks burn and Bucky looks up at you, “See?” he said, “If Ma likes your art you are talented. She hates that dentist office shit.”

“You managed to draw tattoos on my son that don’t make me want to just cut his arm off,” she said sipping her coffee, “That is talent.”

“Ma,” Bucky groaned, “I told you. As soon as Y/N is comfortable with it, I’m gonna have her cover it.”

“Seriously, Bucky, what were you thinking. That is a horrible pin-up. She looks like she fell out of an ugly tree and smacked every branch on the way down.”

“About like Char looked after Y/N bounced her face off the bar,” his sister Sarah quipped. 

“She should have kept her hands to herself,” you say shrugging. 

Winnifred snorted. She didn’t mind your possessive streak. How protective you were of your people. Twice now you’d taken up for her kids and twice now she’d thanked her lucky stars you’d been there.

“Will you give me a tattoo?” Sarah asked.

“No!” All three adults say in different tones. 

__________

Bucky helps you out of his truck and kisses your hand, “Do you still want some playtime, baby girl?”

“Please?” you answer, looking up at him.

He grins and pushes your glasses up, kissing your nose, “As you wish, Princess,” he murmurs. “Why don’t you go get ready. Go find some pretties for me to drool over.” His heart flips when your eyes light up.

“What color?” you ask, wanting to make him happy.

“Hmm,” he rumbles, tracing your lips with his thumb, pretending to think. “How about your surprise me, doll?” 

You smile and he chuckles, “It’s a reward, baby. Wear something that makes you feel good so I can admire you, huh?”

“What are you gonna do?” you ask.

“I’m gonna make sure I have everything I need to leave you a mess,” he answers, “Because something tells me you’re gonna be a brat today and I’m really gonna enjoy ruining your makeup.”

“Promise?” you ask, biting your lip.

“Promise,” he rumbles, linking his pinky through yours and kissing your nose. “Now go on. I want my Princess to feel as pretty as I think she is.”

“Yes, Sir,” you answer, mischief twinkling in your eyes as you smile up at him sweetly before scampering up the steps.

“Brat,” he calls after you softly.

He follows you into the house, chuckling to himself as he bustles around and makes sure to put some beef in the crockpot for later. It’s chilly outside still and he wants to make sure he has some hot vegetable soup for you tonight when it’s time to bring you down. Wine in the fridge to share and brownies. You love brownies. He knows it’ll be hours before either of you can think about food but he also refuses to let you skip meals any more. You’re healthy now and he wants to keep you that way. He’d like a few extra pounds on you, just in case, but he’ll settle for this for now. The fluctuation in your weight left you with stretch marks that make you insecure sometimes. It’s important to him you feel comfortable. 

“Bucky?”

Your soft voice behind him, uncertain and tentative makes him turn slowly. For just a second, he can’t speak. He can’t breathe either. You look like a dream. A pink satin and lace covered dream. The bra and panties alone would have been enough to set him drooling. He loves you in lingerie. It always feels deliciously wicked, knowing you only do this for him. He loves buying you pretty things to wear for him. But the kicker. The thing that’s leaving his brain on a blue screen, is your stockings. Silk, held in place with garters and pretty white riding boots with heels. And your lips. The perfect shade of garnet red. He loves red lips. Especially yours.

“Oh baby girl,” he hums, “you went full Princess for me didn’t you?” His heart melts when your cheeks color and you look so proud of yourself. “Let me see,” he orders gently, “Turn around for me?” You comply, turning to show him the ruffled bottom of your panties, modeling for him, basking in his attention. “You bought yourself some treats, I see,” he praises, taking your hands, “Do you feel beautiful?” 

“Yeah,” you answer, still feeling a little shy. “Good,” he says, chucking you under your chin and rubbing his thumb tenderly over your lips. “Because, baby girl, you look like cake I’d like a bite of,” he praises, “God… I’m not gonna be able to look at pink the same way ever again. And those lips? Fuck me, doll. I can’t wait to have those pretty red lips around my cock.” He watches you glow at the praise, even as your cheeks burn and you look away shyly. “Let’s go upstairs, Princess. I gotta have some pictures. Love having my very own pin-up. Wearing such pretty things just for me.”

“Make me,” you say, voice trembling. You want to. You’d love to pose for him. Watch him drown in lust. But you also really want to be turned over his knee and finger fucked until you’re a drooling mess.

Bucky grins and ghosts his thumbs over your pierced nipples making your knees tremble. “You shouldn’t have said that, Princess,” he tuts, “You know what happens to brats.”


	16. Chapter 16

“You sure you’ll be okay for a few days?” Bucky asked anxiously.

“I’m sure,” you say, putting a beer in front of him, “The girls are going to come to spend the night with me one night and the next night I’m gonna go up and fuck around in Red Key. Get some nice Icecream. Maybe see a movie.”

Bucky nods, “You gonna call me if you need me right?” You nod and snuggle into his lap, “I promise,” you murmur, linking your pinky through his. He kisses his thumb and presses it to yours to lock it and smiles. 

“I’m sorry, Princess,” he sighs, “I just know you’re not feeling well right now.”

“Bucky, I’m okay,” you yawn, “It’s just some sinus crud and a low vitamin D level. All I need is a few good nights of sleep and some orange juice.”

“Still, I’d feel better if you’d come with me. I understand a bike rally isn’t your scene. I know why you don’t want to go. But I don’t like leaving when you don’t feel well.”

“Hey,” you murmur, tilting his chin up to make him look at you, “Bucky, this isn’t about my sniffles. What is it?”

“There’s... talk,” he sighs, not able to lie to you. It’s a rule you have. Honesty. You tell him if you hurt yourself. He tells you when he needs a little space. You tell him what you need and he tells you what he needs.

“What kind of talk?” you ask, carding your fingers through his hair tenderly.

“Talk that Rumlow and his crew are gonna try and call in the bill your dad owed him,” he said wincing. 

You sigh, “I know,” you tell him, kissing his forehead, “But, I’ll be okay. I know where you stashed your shotgun.”

Bucky quirks an eyebrow, “Baby-”

“What?” you say shrugging, “This is my house. I know what’s here. If I was going to kill myself with it I would have already. I’m more likely to fuck myself up of some over the counter shit... Like I don’t know how many Benadryl it would take to kill me but I do know it isn’t 18.”

“Hey,” he frowns, popping you on the ass, making you yelp.

“Too hard,” you whimper.

“Good,” he growls, “Stop making jokes about you dying.”

“I’m not joking,” you say mildly, “if we take everything out of the house I could kill myself with there would be nothing in the house.”

Bucky feels himself scowl, but, he knows you have a point. And he doesn’t mean to treat you like you’re made of glass. It’s just scary to him. How quickly you can make a decision and act on it when your demons get too loud. The last time you’d had a self-harm relapse all it had taken was six minutes. You’d needed stitches in your thigh and Bucky had been terrified. You came down stairs like nothing had happened. You’d seemed fine all day, happy even, even if you were quieter than normal. He hadn’t even known you were bleeding. That you had a bandana wrapped around your thigh. You hadn’t wanted to tell him. And he’d felt sick when he made you show him. He’d never seen the immediate aftermath before. What it looked like when you didn’t want to die but needed to hurt because that was the only way you could process your feelings.

“Y/N,” he sighed, “That’s not the point.”

“That is the point though. There’s not a force on Earth that could stop me if I really wanted to die that badly. But I don’t want to and I’ll be okay for a few days,” you say kissing him, “This is something you do with your friends a few times a year. It’s good business and it gets you out of town for a bit. I get it. Go have fun. Clint already promised to send me a video if you do anything funny... And I have a stash of things to keep me busy if I need it.”

Bucky looked up at you and rubbed your hip, “Alright, he said softly. You yawn and he smiles a little, “Tired, Princess?” 

You nod and he chuckles, “Got your belly full and now it’s time for bed, huh?” 

“It was a long day,” you murmur, cheeks coloring. 

“Well,” he drawls, rubbing your stomach gently, “Let’s get you in bed. Do you want Daddy to tuck you in?” You’re not sure if he knows you’ve got a tummy ache or if he’s just assuming you do because he knows you ate a little too much, still. It feels nice. You know he’s teasing you just a little. You slipped and called him daddy once during playtime and now he used it to make you tremble when he was alone with you. 

“I want you to fuck me to sleep,” you tell him shyly. 

“Something wrong, baby girl?” he asked.

“No,” you answer, “I’m just gonna miss you and I know tomorrow morning won’t be enough.”

He tuts playfully and scoops you up, getting to his feet to carry you upstairs, “Needy,” he teases, “So needy. You can’t just have my cock inside you all the time.”

“Why not?” you ask innocently. “Last week you made me warm you while you fed me strawberries.”

“That was different,” he murmured, “My Princess was having a bad day and I wanted her to eat. And it’s very hard for you to be unhappy when you’re too horny to think straight.”

“That’s fair but you were still inside me when you were doing it,” you kiss his jaw and he chuckles.

“Well. I wanted your mouth busy and your pussy full at the same time, baby girl. And I know how much you love a nice long cuddle. Especially when you feel down. I just want to make sure my princess was taken care of. Just like tonight.”

You make a soft noise and snuggle close, “Thank you, daddy,” you murmur.

“Don’t thank me yet Princess,” he chuckled, “You told me to fuck you to sleep and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do.”

Bucky lays you gently on the bed and expertly strips you out of your clothes. His hands are firm but gently and he takes the time to make you giggle, squeezing lightly above your knees as his hands slide up to pull your panties down. He pushes your thighs apart gently to expose your sex and tuts softly, “Someone has been thinking some very naughty thoughts, look at you. I haven’t even touched you!” He kisses down the insides of your thighs lovingly and nuzzles your mound, “Good girl,” he praises when you arch into him, “There’s my needy little brat.” He slides a finger against your folds and grins when you shiver in need, “I’ll never get tired of watching you, Princess. You’re so pretty when you’re burnin’ up for me.”

“Daddy, please?” you whine, hands already fisting in the covers even from just this much.

“So impatient,” he scolds, taking his finger away and unbuckling his belt, chuckling when you whine in protest. “We gotta take it slow babygirl,” he says, bending his head to kiss your stomach. “I don’t wanna hurt your tummy. Miss three brownies and a glass of milk before dinner.” Your cheeks color and he knows you’re about to apologize, so he kisses you quiet, “You eat whatever you want,” he rumbled, rubbing your stomach gently, “I’m just glad you’re feeling better. I know last week was a rough one for eating. I made brownies so you would eat them, princess. I’m just sorry your tummy hurts... is it from the brownies or the seconds you ate to keep me from worrying?”

“Both probably,” you sigh, cheeks burning as he rubs the taught skin. You wish this wasn’t such a common problem but as you either don’t eat or can’t stop eating, any time you eat more than you should, anything more than small portions of anything, your stomach aches. Bucky just chuckles and keeps rubbing. He doesn’t mind this. He was just glad you were eating more or less consistently. That your body was readjusting and you were healthy for the most part. Doctors were keeping an eye on a couple things, careful to monitor for any major changes, things caused by exposure to some of the things you’d been exposed to. But, Bucky was proud to say, your last physical had left you with a clean bill of health aside from some Vitamin D being low but, that was a simple fix. 

When he feels you relax under his hands a few minutes later, he smiles, “Better?” You nod and tug him down for a kiss. You know you’re being needy but he’s leaving tomorrow and you won’t get good night kisses for a few days.

Bucky shifts his focus then. He knows what needy feels like in his Princess. He knows that this isn’t bratty behavior. You need reassurance and cuddles. You need love, not discipline. You might be fine with him leaving but that doesn’t mean you’re not a little sad about it. Or that you’re not going to feel a little insecure about him being around other women. Pretty half-dressed women that weren’t you. Women flirted with him. He might not flirt back, but they still did it. 

The first time, it happened while he had you out on a date. You’d been polite. Even left the offending waitress a nice tip, but more than once Bucky had seen your eyes get over bright. He’d tried to stop her. Asked for boxes as quickly as he could. But she’d STILL written her number on the receipt. Bucky had braced for the perfect storm of jealous screaming and crying but there hadn’t been. You’d been quiet most of the ride home until he’d come to help you down.

“She was really pretty,” you murmur, “And nice.” Not broken. You hadn’t said it but he knew that’s what you meant.

“But really rude,” Bucky said, kissing your hands. 

“You’re not going to call her?” 

The question broke his heart. So did the look on your face. Quietly hopeful. He hated that your life had set the bar this low for you. That you expected so little. 

“Absolutely not,” he said, brushing hair out of your eyes to kiss your nose. “You’re my girl now. I been waiting 20 years for you. I’m not gonna be chasin’ anyone else. You hear me? You’re mine now. My girl. And I protect mine.”

“I hear you,” you answered, smiling up at him.

Bucky remembered that, in the back of his mind ever since. Even now. As he made love to you tenderly and murmured reassurances and praise as he made you come for him again and again. He reminded himself there was a difference between insecurity and jealousy. Insecurity could cause jealousy and as long as he kept his eyes on his prize. Kept his Princess as his priority, he’d be fine. 

“You’re mine, you hear me?” he rumbled in your ear as his hand tangled in your hair, jerking your head back so he could bite your neck.

“Yes, daddy,” you whine, gasping for air.

“This is mine,” he rumbled, pushing into you with a groan, basking in the feel of your walls around him, “You’re killin’ me, baby girl. You’re such a good girl. Always so tight for me. Always taking all my come like a good girl. Letting me fuck you to sleep so you have sweet dreams.”

Bucky groans when you come for him again and he finds his own release once more. He’s thankful you got on birth control. He really loves having nothing between you and it’s strangely satisfying, watching his come leaking out of you as he cleans you up. 

“You’re mine, too right?” you ask, half turning to look at him as he lays you down on your belly.

“Always,” he murmurs, nuzzling your spine, “Always. Always. I could never love anyone the way I love you... I definitely can’t let anyone else call me Daddy. And you’re always gonna be my Princess... At least until we have a daughter. Then you’ll get a promotion.” 

You laugh a little and pull Bucky close, needing the comfort of him. The feel of his skin against yours. He comes to you readily, tucking you in and making sure you’re comfortable, taking the time to put your new teddy bear in your arms too. “Can you sleep now, Princess?” he asks softly. You nod, looking up at him drowsily. “Good,” he murmured, “You need your sleep. Daddy’s gonna hve lots for you to do for him while he’s gone.”


	17. Chapter 17

Bucky stared at his phone and felt a little light-headed from the speed at which blood had poured into his erection when he opened your message. It was a picture, one that he had asked for on his “To-Do List” that he made.

He knew you liked to torment him, however sweetly. You’d embraced flirting with him quickly and had just as quickly embraced sending him flirty pictures. This one though. It was filthy. One of the things he had put on there that would take you some prep time if you decided to take it for him. A way for you to stay distracted if you got overwhelmed. Or sad. Or any of the other feelings that tended to exacerbate your symptoms.

It made his mouth go dry and his fingers trembled as he tried to type a response. It was a pin-up photo. Artful but undeniably sexy. You were kneeling in front of a mirror in the middle of putting makeup on. Nude but for a pair of heels and the choker he’d bought you. The one with the blue jewel set in gold on a piece of black velvet ribbon. You’d fallen in love with it and protested him buying it. But, it was worth it. You’d changed the jewelry in your nipple piercings to match it. Your thighs were slightly parted and he could just barely see the pink of your folds. But the thing that made him throb was when his eye was drawn down to your plush bottom. He could see the wink of a jewel. Of a toy he’d told you to use. It was beautiful. It made him feel like he was standing behind you, waiting for you to get ready. Watching you. Admiring you from afar.

“Barnes,” Clint said snatching his phone, “Quit lookin’ at porn. You’ll be home tomorrow.”

Clint glanced down at his phone and recoiled, “Oh shit,” he tossed the phone back at Bucky like he’d been shocked, “God. What? Fuck. How do you get a girl to do that?”

“Ask nicely,” Bucky said blushing a little. 

“Do you think Nat would do that for me?” Clint asked

“Do what? Nat asked sitting across from them.

“Take dirty pictures and send them to me,” Clint said.

Nat shot Bucky a look, “Bucky!”

“I didn’t show him,” Bucky protested, “Clint took my fucking phone.”

“Was it at least pretty?” Nat asked clint, smirking.

“Very artistic. She put some effort in. I mean. In another life she woulda made a good alt model.” he said, cheeks coloring a little. 

Bucky can’t look at either one of them right now. He feels a little like he might have betrayed your trust by Clint getting a peek at you. He promised they’d only be for him. 

“I’m not tellin’ her I saw shit though,” Clint said, “I just thought Bucky was watching porn hub. I didn’t know he was doing some freaky shit with his girl.”

Nat snorted, “Oh,” she said, “So you did make a list.”

Bucky nodded, smiling a little, “Yeah,” he said, “thanks for putting that idea in her head.”

Nat grinned, “You’re welcome… We were talking about her doing makeup to distract herself… I was kinda kidding when I suggested dirty pictures but it worked. She likes making you happy. Or teasing you. I’m not sure which.”

“Yes,” Bucky answered nodding. Still blushing. But, it was nice knowing that you and Nat did girl things. Nat didn’t spend much time around women. They irritated her. At least. Most of the women in the bar did. They were pretend tough girls. Bitches. They might ride bikes and drink but they were really boring to her. She liked women that were smart and individual. Not mean girls. She had enough of those in High School. 

Nat snorted, “Nice,” she said, “I knew she was a keeper.”

Bucky picked up his phone to message you back, saving the picture for later in the secret file on his phone

He lavishes praise on you. You’re beautiful and perfect. That picture is hot. It’s so sexy he doesn’t know how he’s gonna sleep tonight looking at it. And thank you so much for showing him.

_______

Bucky is glad to be home. It’s chilly outside but it’s warm inside the clubhouse. He’s missed you and he wanted to go straight to White Rabbit to see you but you made him promise not to. You had something you were working on for him, apparently in a back room and didn’t want him to see it. He was itching to see you. It had been three days and he hadn’t slept well the whole time. He’d not realized how used to you he’d gotten. How much better he slept next to you. He sipped his beer and watched the clock, counting seconds until you’d wander through the door. 

You were always welcome, even when Bucky wasn’t there just by virtue of being a sweetheart who always paid her tab in full. And by being friendly to Nat and generally patient when waiting for a drink. They all liked you. Even the ones that didn’t remember you from school. If only because you did what they couldn’t do and got Bucky out of a bad relationship. He finished his beer and ordered his second, going to join Steve and Sam at the pool table, trying to kill time until you would be there. It worked. He’d hardly looked at the clock.

He was honestly surprised when you burst through the door, wearing a green pleated skirt and white blouse. Hair up in a bun behind your head and pretty red lips. Knee socks and cute little heeled oxfords. You look like a librarian. Out of place in the bar. Still, when you bolt into his arms and wrap your legs around his waist easily, he chuckles against your lips as you tangle your hands in his hair. He can’t stop you and he doesn’t want to. He hefts you up and ignores the jeers and whoops. There’s nothing but you. Your perfume. The feel of your eager, hungry lips against his. When you come up for air he grins, “Miss me?” he asked, teasing.

“So much,” you say smiling, a little breathless.

“Is this outfit for me?” he asks, kissing your nose.

“Do you like it? I did some shopping when I was up in Red Key.” you look uncertain and he smiles. You have an aesthetic. One you never had enough money to dress for. He really likes watching you build your dream closet a little at a time. Even if he has to threaten to punish you if you don’t buy whatever you’re drooling over occasionally. You deserve it and he likes knowing you feel pretty. He also likes wrapping his leather jacket around you when you’re chilly. He likes how big it is on you and the way it clashes with your neat, pretty style. 

“I love it,” he rumbles, “You look real good baby girl. I’m a lucky man, coming home to such a beautiful girl.”

You flush at the praise and he kisses your nose again, “Did you buy yourself anything else?”

“Some pretties and I got my nails done,” you tell him. 

He whistles softly and smiles, “Good to know the money I gave you to run around with went to good use, Princess,” he praised. You hadn’t asked but he’d made sure to give you a little something just to entertain yourself with. He’d left it on your dresser in the jar you kept to save up for this or that. 

You tilt your head, “Oh no. I used that to get you something,” you say smiling, kissing his cheek. “I had a ton of money in my Princess fund so I used what you left me for something else.”

“Y/N,” he scolded, “You were supposed to use that on something for you.”

“I did. It made me happy buying you something,” you murmur, cheeks coloring. 

He swatted your backside affectionately, “Why’re you so sweet, huh?”

“I dunno,” you answer, wiggling to be put down.

“Nuh-uh,” he said, shifting you onto his shoulder and carrying you over to the bar to sit with you on his lap, “Have a glass of wine with me?” he asked. 

You sigh, “Not today,,” you say shaking your head. Bucky kisses your head and signals to Nat to put it on his tab as she pours a coke for you. She kept a four-pack of Mini bottles and one wine glass. You were the only one that drank wine, when you did drink and it tickled her.

“Thank you,” you tell her, smiling and raising your glass in toast. “I still don’t understand how the fuck you walked into a biker bar and ordered wine,” she teased.

“Well, you stock it now don’t you?” you answer.

“Only because it’s you and we feel bad making fun of you.”

You shrug, “Much like the sloth, my plan for survival seems to be being as pathetic as possible so that bigger badder people leave me alone.”

Natasha snorted. She could appreciate that you were yourself. You didn’t like beer and wouldn’t pretend to fit in. You’d sip your glass of wine and crack quiet jokes.

“Pathetic?” Sam gasped scandalized, teaching across the bar to grab another bottle, “You’ve successfully whipped the most unrepentant man whore I have ever met AND you get to talk back to Natasha and live.”

“He wasn’t a man whore,” you say leaning against Bucky’s side, “He just didn’t know better.”

“And I’m pretty sure she’s the one that’s whipped,” Steve snickered.

Your cheeks burn and Natasha winces sympathetically, “Steve,” she says, spraying him with seltzer, “You’re fucking Stark so you should probably let the two of them just have their French vanilla sex and enjoy it.”

Bucky tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, cuddling you close and casually flipping off the guys that are D’aww-ing loudly. He’s never understood why guys act like assholes to their girls in public. You deserved soft all the time. You deserved to be able to look to him to feel safe whether or not his friends could see him.

“Shut up, ya animals,” Nat sighed. 

______________________

Bucky walked into the house and set his bag down by the door then set you down on the table, standing between your legs and putting his chilled hands on your thighs, rubbing tenderly to warm them up. You shiver and he chuckles, “I missed you, Princess,” he murmurs, kissing your nose.

“I missed you too, daddy,” you answer, hiding your face in his abs.

“You were a handful while I was gone,” he chuckles, “I loved all the pretty pictures you sent me.”

“You did?”

“I did,” he praised, “Lost a lot of sleep wishing I was here to admire how perfect you are in person.”

You beam up at him and he takes the pins out of your hair carefully, letting it fall down to your shoulders. “You’re so perfect,” he hummed, kissing your nose.

Your cheeks color and you nuzzle his abs again, “Can I give you your present now?” 

He chucks you under the chin, “You mean the present I told you not to buy?”

“But-” Your face falls and he tickles your side, making you giggle.

“No, no being sad,” he tuts, “Of course you can Princess.” He helps you off the table and listens to your shoes hit the floor outside the door and then listens to you scamper up the stairs. You’re excited. Thrilled about whatever this is and Bucky braces himself. Even if he hates whatever it is, he’s not gonna tell you. Not ever. You’re too sweet and he knows that whatever it is you saw it and thought it was perfect for him. That’s enough.

He helps himself to a beer and waits, listening to the rustling coming from upstairs. He shakes his head and settles into a kitchen chair waiting. When you come back downstairs with a black gift bag in your hand he smirks. You always tried so hard not to make things too feminine for him. He appreciated it but honestly, he wasn’t phased. He’d carry your purse and not even blink. He was a big scary biker. Ain’t no one saying shit. 

“What’s this, huh?” he said pulling you onto his knee and taking tissue paper out of the bag and tossing it aside.

You’re practically vibrating with excitement and he pulls the gift out of the bag. It’s a leather jacket. A tiny leather jacket. Like baby-sized. Bucky stops and looks at you. Your hands are over your mouth and you’re watching him waiting on his reaction. “Princess,” he said, not quite able to breathe, “I don’t think this is my size.”

He definitely can’t breathe. He can’t think. If you’re telling him what he thinks you’re saying he has to protect you. He has to keep you safe. 

“Bucky I-” you start and he can hear the anxiety in your voice and that hurts. He forces himself to smile and wipes a stray happy tear off your cheek. 

“I thought you were on birth control,” he said, feeling like his lips are numb.

“And they put me on antibiotics for my sinus infection- I- I’m sorry. I didn’t- I’m sorry.” You’re starting to cry in earnest now, springing off of his lap and covering your face with your hands. 

“Sweetheart,” he soothed, holding his hands out for you to take, “I just- I’m surprised. I think- I think I might have gone into shock for a second.” It’s breaking his heart to see you cry. He hates it. He can’t. It makes him think about all the times you cried and he wasn’t there to dry your tears. “Please, baby girl,” he coaxes, “Please don’t cry. Not like this. I’m sorry. I’m happy I promise.”

“No, you’re not,” you sniffle, wiping your eyes on the back of your hand and wrapping your arms around yourself.

He crosses the floor to you and passes you a clean handkerchief from the inside pocket of his jacket. You take it and he kisses your head while you bow your head and try to rein in all your emotions. Something Bucky still appreciates about your crying. It’s always real. He gives you the time you need before he starts talking again. Taking just a second to decide what to say. And rein in his own panic. His own irrational fear. His dad left. He didn’t know how to be a dad. He could barely take care of himself. How would he teach his son? And oh god, what if it was a girl? What would he do? 

When you look up at him though, he can’t think about that. All he knows is he has to fix this for you. You’re his. This baby is his. And this isn’t about him. Not really. You’re trusting him. Giving him this. You could have had an abortion and not told him and he’d never know. You’re looking up at him, uncertain and scared and he realizes with a jolt that he wasn’t the only one that was scared, you’d just had some time to adjust to it. Some time to decide you could do this. With him. 

“You’re right,” he says softly, “I’m not happy. I’m terrified.” He kneels in front of you and nuzzles your belly, kissing gently. You pet his hair, waiting. “I don’t- I don’t really know what to do with kids ya know? My dad left- a bunch of times. I don’t really know how to be a dad. I mean. Until recently I was drunk every night and fucking a bunch of different girls.” He looks up at you and smiles a little, “But if I can do this with anyone, Y/N, I can do it with you.”

“Really?” you whimper, tucking hair behind his ear.

“Really.” 

“Promise?” you hold out your pinky and he links his pinky through yours, pressing his lips to your thumb and pressing his thumb against it to lock it. 

“I promise, Princess,” he said getting to his feet slowly and wrapping his arms around you, “I only get one chance. I’m not gonna fuck this up. Not now that I fooled you into thinking I’m a nice guy.”

You roll your eyes but giggle, making him swat your bottom affectionately. “When did you find out?” he asks softly, setting you on the counter and taking a cool cloth to your face gently.

“About 15 minutes before the girls showed up with pizza for our sleepover,” you murmur. 

He kisses your nose, “Have you seen a doctor?”

“Not yet but. Three tests on three different days seemed pretty definitive… I wanted to tell you first before I did anything.”

“We need to get you an appointment, Princess,” he murmured, kissing you softly, “We just got you healthy. I wanna keep you that way. Both of you.” He swipes at your nose gently with the cloth and you smile.

“You’re gonna keep me?”

“Of course I am,” he murmured, “You’re my Princess, and this is for both of us to handle, okay? Just give me some time to process it all. I promise. I’m okay. It was just a shock, baby.”

“Can we have a cuddle?” you ask, needing some comfort.

Bucky nods and helps you gently off the counter, “And snacks. I’m hungry.”

You nod and bucky Listens to your little white socked feet on the wood floors as he glances towards the tiny jacket on the table, “Ma is gonna kill me,” he murmurs rubbing the back of his neck.


	18. Chapter 18

Bucky sat in a chair in the Doctor’s office with you, listening. Or trying to listen. His head was spinning. There was a lot of things, a seemingly endless list of what you could and couldn’t do. Some of the things he already knew but he just… He was overwhelmed. He was still overwhelmed. 

But he held your hand and petted your hair and tried to be present. By the time they laid you back to get a look at the baby he needed several cigarettes and he needed someone to tell him he hadn’t just ruined your life. 

There wasn’t much to see, but it was really clear that there was something there, “They got your nose,” he teases, kissing your forehead and wiping away tears as you giggle. He looked back at the screen and petted your hair. Somehow, he felt better. It felt more real. It drowned out the thought that this might not be true. 

He didn’t like to admit it but the mess Char had made of his life, he was still sorting through. With her, she’d been cagey. Had never told him the truth. But you were here. This wasn’t a picture of a scan bought off the internet. It was your belly they were getting pictures of. That helped. It felt better.

When you’ve finally been poked and prodded and questioned to their satisfaction and they let you go, he helps you off the table and into his jacket over your protests, “We just got you over your sinus infection,” he said firmly, kissing your nose. He puts his arm around you and leads you out, letting you get appointments set up and getting everything in order. He listened with half an ear and rubbed your lower back slowly, not willing to stop touching you.

He helped you into his truck and kissed you very softly. “You okay, Bucky?” you ask, carding fingers through his hair.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, smiling a little and rubbing your stomach, “Less shocked. There’s really a baby. Like. This is happening.” He smiles a little wider, “You’re having my baby.” He kisses you again and rests his forehead against yours, “You know Ma is gonna be pissed at us right?”

“Probably,” you sigh, “Jack and Judy won’t be thrilled either.”

Bucky fusses with your seat belt anxiously and kisses your head. “Jack’s not gonna shoot me is he?” he teases

You snort, “No, but he might insist that you marry me.”

“Shit is that all? Darlin’ I could have you a ring and a church tomorrow. You just say the word.”

“For now can we just go home? I want some comfy clothes on and some cuddles.”

“Yes, ma’am. Anything you say.”

______________

“James. You didn’t.” Winnifred pinches the bridge of her nose with a groan and looks up to see Bucky put an arm around you protectively. What he thinks he’s gonna protect you from, she isn’t sure. She looked at you and sighed, “I thought you were too smart for this kinda shit.”

Your cheeks color, “Antibiotics,” you murmur.

Winnifred snorted, “I guess I can’t say too much about that. That’s how two of my four kids were born. That and a jar of moonshine.” She hugs you and kisses the side of your head, “And you’re okay?” she asked softly.

“Mostly,” you murmur, “There are bad days still. Days when it’s hard to get up but…”

She nods and tilts your chin up gently, “You look after yourself, hear me?” she says sternly, “This is my first grandbaby, they need their mama healthy.” She turns to Bucky and pulls him down by the ear to kiss his cheek, “And you,” she scolds, “You be thankful I’m not whoopin’ your ass. At least this one is a good girl and she’s gonna make a pretty baby.”

Bucky feels his cheeks color and she smiles, “It could be worse,” she admits, “If this was a few years ago I probably would be whoopin’ ass, but at least you’re an age to be settlin’ down a little. Got good jobs and enough money to be doing this. And a nice house.”

________

“Are you Happy?” Judy asked quietly, cradling your face in her hands gently, “This is really what you want?”

“You know I can’t do anything else,” you murmur, smiling a little. 

“But you’re happy?” she presses anxiously. She knows this won’t fix it but she just wants you to have some stability. A family. And it’s clear from the way Bucky is looking at you worried and longing. It’s clear that he loves you. That he wants this, if only because he wants you. 

“As happy as I can be,” you answer, “There are still bad days. But. It’s just. It’s not as loud.” She kisses your forehead and smiles a little, “That’s all I need to know baby,” she says, “If your happy, and this is what you want, I’d love to be a grandma.” 

You smile, “Really?”

“Absolutely, baby. You were always gonna be the one to give me grandbabies. Kaity hated babies. She couldn’t stand kids until they could wipe their own ass and talk to her.”

You giggle and she wipes happy tears off your cheeks before calling over her shoulder, “Jack, take your boot off that poor boy’s neck! He can live.”

The massive man stopped glaring at Bucky and looked towards the kitchen, his face softening a little as he pulled you into a hug. “You’re gonna marry the girl,” he growls, “Aren’t you son?”

“If she’ll have me,” he said blushing.

“That’s every girl’s dream proposal,” you sigh.

“Darlin’“ he scolds, “You’re the one that let him knock you up.”

“Still,” you protest.

Bucky smiles a little and lets out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. Now that family knew, he only had to wait a little longer to tell his friends. He was dying to tell them. It was exciting now that it was real. Now that it had gotten concrete in his mind that there was really a baby coming. Holding your hair for you in the morning and going to appointments with you made it hard to ignore. Not that he wanted to. 

_____________

When you walked into the shop, Bucky was immediately up and wiping his hands off on the nearest rag, “You’re early,” he said, “Everything okay?” You smile up at him and stand on your toes to kiss his jaw, “Fine,” you laugh, “Everything is fine. The girls practically threw me out. They were insistent we go have a good time.”

Bucky smiled and took a step back to admire you for a second. He loved you in your overall shorts and he was gonna be really sad when you outgrew them for a while. And from the looks of things that wouldn’t take long. You were getting big. And he liked that too. You looked sweet. Plain white sneakers, sunglasses on your head, your face done up like a pin-up. And your belly full of his kid. 

He petted your stomach for a second and settled you in his desk chair, “Of course they are,” he snorted, “Well, darlin’ you wait here and I’ll go get changed. We’ve got a little bit of a drive.” You pout at him and he chuckles, “Princess,” he scolds, “We can’t just fuck in my office. Again.”

“Can I at least watch you change?” you pout, “It’s been at least eight hours since I got to drool over you.”

Bucky leans down and kisses you slowly, nipping your lip and making you moan softly. That’s the other thing he enjoys. The hormones. You can’t keep your hands off of him and he doesn’t want you too. If he’d thought you were sensitive before, it’s better now. He can make you come just barely doing anything. He can also make you unbearably horny. “Princess,” he scolds, “Big girls don’t pout when daddy says no.”

“Please?” you whine, aching for him. It had started when you were stocking vintage erotica and ended with you thinking about how good Bucky felt.

Bucky tuts and kisses your nose, “You’re all worked up, baby girl,” he murmurs, “Shame on you, getting all hot and horny without me. Maybe I should take care of you real quick.”

Your cheeks heat and he tilts your chin up lovingly, “I could take care of you,” he said, “but once we get started you’re not gonna stop until I wear you out. So.” He turns and takes an ice pack out of the fridge and spreads your legs gently, pushing it against your heat, “You cool down a little and I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

Bucky laughs when you groan and kisses your head, “I promise, Princess. It’s gonna be a nice night.” At least he hoped, he reflected, scrubbing himself down quickly. Once he was satisfied that he didn’t smell like gas and oil, he changed clothes and walked back towards his office.

“You ready, Buck?” Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“For the baby or for tonight?” he asked rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Both,” Steve chuckled.

“Yeah,” he said, smiling a little. He felt better than he had for a long time. He loved coming home to you. Even on the nights that a commercial about sad puppies made you cry for half an hour. More often, he came home and cuddled up on the couch, Salem curled up on your belly while you read a book. It felt tranquil. It felt safe. Like all the bullshit of the day didn’t matter anymore. 

He walked back into the office and helped you to your feet kissed you softly, “You ready?” he asks, smiling.

“Yeah,” you tell him, snuggling close to him for a minute. He always smelled so good. You let him help you up into his truck and he jumps up in the driver’s seat.

____________________

The drive is quiet but comfortable. By the time he pulls into the drive, the sun is sinking below the horizon. You look around and smile a little, confused, “What’s all this?” you ask.

“A date,” he chuckles, helping you down. A cabin by a lake and no one around for miles. Stars starting to twinkle in the clear sky as a full moon rises over the water like a spotlight. 

“Bucky,” you whisper, tearing up and he hands you a handkerchief chuckling. You cry at the drop of a hat. About everything. 

“It’s ours for the night, Princess,” he says, “We’re gonna eat some dinner and maybe, just maybe, take a swim… Why don’t you go check out the cabin, huh? Give me some time to get dinner laid out.”

“I am very spoiled,” you tell him, wiping your eyes.

Bucky laughs and pops your bottom affectionately, “Every day,” he says, “It’s always worth it Princess. Now go on. Make sure the cabin is up to snuff.”

You go do as he asked, turning on lights and putting the bedding to rights on the bed. It looked like he’d thought of everything. It made you tear up all over again and you took a deep breath trying to calm down again. 

When you wander back outside, he’s trying to light candles on the table and burning his fingers. “Fuck,” he hissed.

You kiss his burnt finger and light the candle for him. “Thanks, doll,” he hums, kissing you before bending to kiss your stomach, “You hungry?”

“Starving,” you tell him, “It’s been a long day.”

“Well,” he said, pulling your chair out, “Let’s get you fed, Princess. You are eating for two.” He helps you get set down and pushes your chair in gently before pouring you a glass of sparkling grape juice and handing you a plate. 

“How do you always know what I want to eat?” you ask fondly.

“Well,” he said, “You’re not that hard to please, baby girl. As long as it’s spicy and there aren’t lima beans you’re usually good. So fajitas seemed like they fit the bill.” Dinner is quiet and Bucky puts seconds on your plate over your protests. “You’re eating for two,” he teased, rubbing the swell of your stomach. 

“I’m gonna get fat,” you protest. Bucky snorted, “Princess, don’t you worry your pretty little head. Just eat what you can. I’d rather have you a little chubby than ever see you get that skinny ever again. That was scary.

You pet his hand and he gives yours a squeeze, “I love you, Bucky.”

“I love you too,” he murmurs, “And I actually dragged you out here so I could do something pretty important.”

“Murder me and throw me in the lake?” you ask taking a sip from his glass.

“No, ya freak,” he said fondly, kneeling in front of you and taking your hands, resting his forehead on your stomach gently. “Y/N,” he said softly, “I’ve been in love with you since the first day in Miss Price’s class. I was just too stupid to realize it. I thought I was too broken and fucked up. I mean, my dad didn’t even care about me enough to stay, so why would anyone else. But you were always there. I looked for you. I wanted to love you, I just didn’t know how. I guess I had to have life knock the shit out of me a few more times. When you came back into my life, it was the best thing that could have ever happened to me… Marry me?” he asked. 

You can’t speak as he fumbles the ring box out of his pocket and looks up at you hopefully. You’re crying and all you can do is nod, your lips crashing into his. He laughs and wraps his arms around you, “I’m assuming this is a yes?” he teases, sliding the ring onto your finger tenderly. “Yeah,” you say breathlessly.

“Good,” he says exhaling slowly, “I thought I was gonna puke for a second.”

You giggle and he swats your bottom lovingly and toys with the straps on your overalls, “How about that swim, Princess?” he asks. 

“I don’t have a suit,” you protest.

“So?” he chuckles, “Who’s gonna see? Ain’t no one out here but you and me, baby.”


	19. Chapter 19

In the quiet, Bucky watched you sleep. Under ordinary circumstances, keeping up with your current sex drive would have put him to sleep. But he couldn’t. 

The diamond in your engagement ring was winking at him in the moonlight. It wasn’t the best ring. He hadn’t wanted to spend too much on something you might not like. A nagging sense of uncertainty in the back of his mind, something leftover from his time with Char, had made him believe you’d hate it and you’d tell him no. He’d almost just taken you on this little adventure and not asked. He couldn’t bear the thought of you turning him down. 

But you hadn’t. You’d cried. Happy tears, thankfully. You’d told him you loved him about a hundred times and loved him so well he thought he’d probably never get all the feeling back in his toes. There was no hesitation. You reassured him a dozen times that you loved what he picked out. It was a generous and uncomplicated kind of love. The kind he still didn’t believe he deserved. But as he watched you sleep, safe and comfortable next to him, still holding his hand the way you’d fallen asleep, he couldn’t help but marvel at you. 

You’d been torn apart and stitched together more times than he could count. And still. You treated his heart with care. He didn’t want this to end. He wanted to keep you here like this forever. The smell of sweat and sex and soft spring air. The sound of frogs croaking and tall grass rustling. He’d always loved you. He’d just never realized how much until you were gone. You’d had a piece of his heart for his whole life and he never even knew it. You’d given it back. Filled the void inside him that had gnawed at him relentlessly. You’d taken the pain that squatted in his chest like a toad and casually chucked it out like last week’s bills.

You changed everything. 

Bucky knew that as surely as he knew one more thing. There was no way he could ever go back. 

_________

“You okay?” Bucky asked, yawning as he leaned against the door frame of your studio in the attic.

“Yeah,” you murmur frowning over a column of numbers, “I just couldn’t go back to sleep so I thought I’d get payroll done.”

“You only have three employees,” he groused.

“And they have to be paid, baby.”

“And I need baby cuddles,” he grumbles.

“Bucky,” you laugh softly, “Let me do this and I’ll come back downstairs.”

“Now,” he says, holding his hands out grumpily. He doesn’t like waking up alone to your side of the bed being cold. 

“Daddy,” you sigh.

“I’m not asking, Princess,” he scolds, “I want your ass back in bed. It’s too early for doing things. It’s Sunday. That’s our day.”

You look up at him and sigh, easing yourself out of the chair with a little difficulty.

“This week we’re moving your office part of things downstairs,” he says sternly, “I don’t like you climbing these narrow ass stairs when you can’t see your feet.”

“Bucky-” you protest.

“Please,” he murmured, kissing you quiet and rubbing your belly lovingly, “I know. You’re fine. It’s just less for me to worry about when you’re home alone. I gotta take care of you.”

“Alright fine,” you pout, “But you better make me brownies.”

“All the brownies you want, your majesty,” he teases, “But you gotta get your ass downstairs and let me get my baby cuddle.”

“Only because it’s adorable,” you allow, letting him help you down the stairs.

“And because I said so,” he rumbled, patting your bottom fondly as he kisses your head. 

“That too,” you shiver, smiling a little. 

He helps you down to the master bedroom off the landing and helps you back into bed tenderly. He lets you get settled and lays his head on your belly gently, nuzzling into the swell and murmuring soothing little bits of nonsense. He’d read somewhere that by now, babies could hear. He wanted them to know what his voice sounded like. That he loved them. So much. It was his favorite part of the morning. Sleepy kisses and baby cuddles. Tenderness to ease you into the day and give him time to fuss before you have time to get fiesty. 

“Bucky?” you ask, petting his hair.

“Hmm?” he answers, kissing your stomach softly.

“If we have a girl-” you hesitate for a moment and Bucky doesn’t have to hear the end of the question.

“If we have a girl,” he murmurs, “ I think Kaity would be thrilled if we named them after her.” He smiles a little and reaches up to wipe a tear off your cheek.

“You don’t mind?” you ask.

He tuts softly, “I’d expect nothing else,” he soothes, kissing your belly again. Light soft kisses that make you giggle. “It’s perfect. She gave me you. Both of you.”

You do start crying then and he applies himself to making you laugh, covering you in love and adding color commentary for the baby’s benefit. Asking them if they can believe how cute your laugh is. And that he hopes they look like you for their sake as he kisses your stomach. By the time your giggles turn into needy little moans, Bucky is thrilled to get you out of your pajamas. 

__________

“I now pronounce you man and wife!” Clint said looking especially pleased with himself as Bucky doesn’t even wait for the next part before he’s kissing you. You make a soft surprised noise against his lips and he chuckles.

The heat is sweltering and you’re miserable and you feel gross and not at all pretty, but for the moment it doesn’t matter. Bucky is kissing you and when he pulls away, he’s looking at you like you’re all he ever wanted.

It’s a simple wedding in the back yard of the house. Just family and close friends. Solidifying things before the baby comes in a few more weeks. You pointed out to Bucky that his name would be on the birth certificate regardless but, he wouldn’t hear of waiting. He wanted to be married when they got here. So, you found something to wear. It turned out to be a white dress from a local alternative store. It did nothing to hide how pregnant you were, but, the fabric was light and it was just tailored enough in the right places that you didn’t feel like you were wearing a tent. You can’t wear the shoes you bought. Your feet are too swollen and your wedding band just barely fits and is quickly taken off again in case your hands swell anymore.

After your guests have gone, Bucky carries you into the house and lays you on the sofa gently. “Did you buy anything pretty to wear tonight, Princess?” he asks softly, propping your feet up in his lap.

“Yeah,” you answer sleepily, sighing when he starts rubbing your feet gently.

“We’ll save it for tomorrow, huh? I don't think I’m gonna have to fuck you to sleep tonight, baby girl. You’re half asleep already.”

“But-”

“We’ll have some nice playtime tomorrow. It’s been a long time since I’ve had this long to play with my Princess.”

You fuss at him sleepily but he just smiles. You’re gonna be asleep before he could even get things out to play with. He’ll just put you to sleep down hear and carry you upstairs once the bedroom gets cool enough you can sleep. Naked, he decides. He wants nothing in the way. Just you while he sleeps.

_________

“I really hope they tell me we’re almost there today,” you groan, letting Bucky help you onto the table in the Doctor’s office. Bucky tuts softly and kisses your head, “Don’t you listen,” he murmurs to the baby, “You take your time. Mama is just a little grumpy this morning.”

He rubs your lower back gently when you squirm a little trying to ease your discomfort. You really do look like you can’t possibly get any bigger because there can’t possibly be any more room. 

The doctor encourages the physical activity you’ve been doing, adding that some other things that might help put you into labor. Your due date is coming up fast and Bucky, listening to the doctor is quietly terrified. He doesn’t want you to go into labor early. He’s not ready. Still, as he watches you get steadily more uncomfortable, he has to admit it’s probably best to humor you and let you do whatever makes you feel comfortable. 

As you’re getting ready to leave, your phone rings and you pick it up, putting it on speaker.

“Y/N can we redecorate the front window?” Bucky hears Sarah ask.

“I just did it last week,” you say laughing.

“I know but we’re bored. Please?” she begs.

“Make sure you put everything back where it goes if it’s in the window now. And leave the art piece in the back room alone. Those are commissions. Other than that, knock yourselves out.”

“Thanks!”

The line goes dead and you shake your head fondly, letting Bucky help you into your coat. It’s cold early this year and he wouldn’t let you out without it. Even if you can’t zip it right now.

“You trust them to do that?” Bucky teased.

“There’s nothing they can do I can’t undo,” you say shrugging. 

Bucky tugged playfully on your coat, trying to get it to join together around your belly and smiles a little, “If you get any more adorable I’m just gonna keep you knocked up, princess,” he teases. Your cheeks color and he pounces, leaning down to whisper in your year conspiratorially, “I kinda like everyone knowing who you belong to,” he continues, “watching you get all big with my baby is nice too.” You whimper softly and he chuckles, “Lets get you fed mama,” he says lovingly, “Then I’ll take you back to work.”

“You don’t fight fair,” you pout. 

“Nope,” he says, helping you into his truck, taking a moment to swat your bottom affectionately, “And I don’t plan on stopping today. So I hope you remembered some spare panties.”

You shiver in need and Bucky grins. He has plans. Mostly to send you some mildly racy pictures, just enough to keep you hot for him for the rest of the day. He wanted you a desperate mess by the time he picked you up tonight. He was gonna enjoy that. A lot. Maybe, he reflected, a little too much. But as he thought about you sweating and panting and pleading for more, he couldn't bring himself to feel sorry about it. He figured you'd have a lot more fun having him fuck you senseless than you would taking walks to get some exercise. And you'd probably be a lot less uncomfortable at home, with him being plied with treats and hot chocolate in a nice warm bed than you would being out in the cold. It was just more practical, he reasoned.


	20. Chapter 20

At a day past your due date on Christmas Eve, you’re miserable. The only blessing is that at least, it’s cold and you aren’t sweating. Bucky, god love him, had tried. And tried, and tried a few more times to put you in labor. No dice. Your little one, was, apparently as stubborn as both of their parents.

Bucky tried to be patient, waiting for you to get ready. Jack and Judy had just been by to drop off presents for all of you. They were getting out of town for a few days, reassuring you that they were just fine and that they wouldn’t be missed at the hospital. “Baby,” Judy said kissing your forehead, “It’ll be okay. You’re gonna have so many people in there trying to hold the baby you’ll want to start throwing people out.” She’d laughed and hugged you gently before pulling away to pet your belly, “They’ll still be all wrinkly when we get back.” Jack kissed your head and informed Bucky he had money on him fainting before making him promise he’d take the best care of you.

Bucky glanced at the clock and texted his mom to let her know you’d be late, reassuring her that everything was fine, you were just moving a little slow before going up to check on you. 

“Baby?” he called, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you sigh, stretching your back trying to ease a cramp, “I’m almost ready. I just need help with my boots.”

Bucky smiled softly and crossed the floor to kneel in front of you, taking a moment to rub your feet gently. The swelling never really seemed to go all the way down anymore and walking usually hurt no matter what shoes you wore. You sigh in relief at the touch and he rests his forehead on your belly lovingly, “I can do that, Beautiful,” he hummed, “And when we get home tonight we’ll try and see if we can’t put you in labor.” He kissed the swell and chuckled, “I’m getting impatient. He kisses the little hand that pushes outward, nuzzling softly then help you into your boots carefully. That done, he helps you into your coat and down the stairs cautiously. In the back of his mind, he makes a note to keep an eye on your back pain. And makes a note to text Nat to make sure there’s hot chocolate for you. He’s thankful that you’d put your foot down and said you’d make the rounds on Christmas eve, but Christmas day you wanted to stay home. You wanted it to be restful. Or at the very least you wanted to be home and comfortable and just be cuddled within an inch of your life. You looked so tired Bucky almost want to just call everyone and say you weren’t coming then put you back to bed.

Still. His mom and sisters are excited to see you. His mom gives Bucky a few quiet, very helpful pieces of advice he can use when he gets you home from the hospital, and his sisters, bless them, make you open all the onsies they bought and wrapped individually. Saying goodbye takes forever as the girls won’t stop petting your tummy. They’re very, very excited. Especially now that they know you’re going to be bringing the baby with you to work, at least while they’re small and portable. By the time you do leave, it’s snowing harder and Bucky makes sure to steady you on the slick spots. Partly to be able to touch you but mostly because, at this point, not being able to see your feet and hurting that bad makes falling a very real possibility. And a dangerous one. He’d scared himself really early on. Looking up everything that could possibly go wrong. All the ways you could lose the baby that you had no control over. It had made him very careful. Following doctor’s orders to the letter and making sure you had everything you could ever need or want. At least, he reflected with a soft smile, he’d gotten his freaking out, out early. As anxious as he was for the birth, nothing could compare to the long hours he spent scaring himself to death late at night when he’d had nightmares and couldn’t go back to sleep. He helped you up like always, taking a second to kiss your belly. “How’s your back feel?” he hummed.

“Not any worse, but no better,” you sigh.

“Consistent pain or does it come and go?” 

“Constant,” you murmur, squirming, trying to get comfortable.

Bucky frowns, “Well darlin’,” he murmurs, “What do you want to do? Do you want to go to the hospital? Home? Or finish our rounds then do one of those things?”

“We’ll finish everything up,” you tell him, kissing him softly, “I really want tomorrow to ourselves. I’m just about at my wits end with people.”

Bucky chuckles, “I know, baby. It’s okay. Just let me know if anything changes okay? We’ll go straight to the hospital if it gets any worse. Any change, okay? I know they said at your appointment today you were probably gonna have to be induced but still.”

“Bucky, we’re okay,” you tell him, stealing a kiss, “Let's just get this done, okay?”

“As you wish, Princess,” he chuckles, going to get into the driver’s seat. 

Bucky is usually a careful driver when he has a passenger but right now, he drives like a little old lady, a fact that’s fun to tease him about.

“Gotta keep my precious cargo safe,” he answers, unruffled. Turning his head and grinning at you for a moment before reaching over to rest his hand on your stomach. It also gave him a second to glance over his shoulder. He was pretty sure he was being followed. There was a black truck that had been following him for the last few miles. He didn’t like it. He just didn’t want you to know about it. You didn’t need the stress. As much as he wanted you to go into labor, he really didn’t want your water to break on the front seat of his truck. He could see them speeding up and braced himself. Ready to try and keep himself on the road and keep you safe. Several things, in the moment before impact popped into his head. One was that he was gonna need an ambulance. Two was that he had to get a message to his gang. He was gonna need backup. And a medic to see to you until the ambulance got there. So he messaged Nat and trusted that she’d get them all moving.

The second was that you were going to be terrified. “Baby,” he said calmly, “Just trust me, okay? Rumlow has guys behind us. I can protect you but I don’t want you to look.”

You don’t get a chance to answer. The black truck behind you slams directly into your side of the truck and Bucky has about a quarter of a second to control the slide down the embankment. He cuts the engine and takes, quick stock, kissing you softly and throwing his jacket over you to protect you from the shattering glass as a bullet hits the back window, “I love you,” he said, pulling his pistol out of the glove box. He needs to call 911 but there’s no time. You could be hurt. The baby could be hurt. But first he had to get the three of you out of this mess.

He’s never been so happy to hear Clint’s loud ass truck or Steve yelling orders. He returns fire and tries not to worry about what you’re gonna think about him. He just wants you safe, anything else he can worry about after you’ve been checked out. The bullet that hits his shoulder makes him cry out and you whimper, too scared to make any other sound. 

Nat sneaks around and slides down the embankment, opening the door and sliding in with you, “Hey,” she murmurs, “It’ll be okay. We have cops on the way, okay? The ambulance is gonna take a minute because of the roads. Lots of wrecks today.

“Bucky-” you pant looking towards him and Nat grabs your chin gently. “Don’t look,” she said softly, “Contractions?”

“I think so,” you pant as she takes your hand, now very aware that she’s kneeling in a puddle. She whistled softly and smiled, “Jesus this little one had good timing. Just hang on sweetheart. Okay? Help’s coming.”

Outside, bullets are still flying and lights are flashing as cops take over, assessing the situation and listen carefully to Steve saying that Bucky’s been shot and there’s a woman currently in labor. Sam gets Bucky stable and has Nat help you to the back seat of Bucky’s truck so you can lie down. “Sorry, babe,” he says, “I gotta know what’s going on, I don’t think we have much time before I’m gonna have to play catcher.”

You nod and cry out making Bucky’s heart race as he rubs your shoulders, trying to give you what comfort he can. Sam is as gentle as he can be as he takes a look between your legs and whistled softly, “Shit, baby girl we really don’t have time. This baby is coming like now. Guess they wanted to know what was going on out here.” You whimper and Bucky takes your hand, taking a towel and some hand sanitizer from a cop, gently but Firmly telling them he had it under control when the cop that tried to help went pale.

“Y/N, on the count of three I need you to push, okay?”

“I can’t,” you whimper, scared and in pain.

“Yes you can,” Bucky encouraged, lacing his fingers through yours, “C’mon princess. Push,” he said when Sam counted down. 

It doesn’t take long for the baby to slide into Sam’s waiting hands and a moment after that for that first cry to be the sweetest sound Bucky had ever heard.

“It’s a girl,” Sam said laughing, bundling her into the towel quickly to protect her against the chill. 

Paramedics take over then, hustling to get all three of you taken care of. Bucky lets them take the bullet out but won’t be moved from your side, not until he knows his girls are safe and everything is okay. He kisses you tenderly and wipes away tears as someone hands you the baby, “She’s beautiful,” he murmurs, “Just like her ma.”

“How’s your shoulder?” you ask, worried.

“It’s fine,” he soothes, “It’s all fine. It’s just gonna hurt like a bitch for a while.” He kisses your head and lets them load you and the baby into an ambulance to be checked out and declines one himself, letting Steve drive. He felt a strange sense of peace watching Rumlow and his heavy hitters getting loaded into body bags. He knew that they’d be back in some form but for now, the infighting and general chaos would render them mostly useless. You were safe. And that was all he cared about. You were safe and he had a daughter. A healthy baby girl was waiting for him to get cleaned up so he could hold her and he couldn’t wait to say hello.

“What’d you name the baby?” Clint asked waiting to catch him in case he lost his footing on the step into Steve’s jeep.

“Kaitlyn,” he said smiling a little, “Kaitlyn Angelea.”

Nat smiled, “Not Noel? Lame,” she groused, “At least her middle name would have a good story.”

“Nat,” Sam laughed, “How many fucking babies born today were born in the middle of a shoot out?”

Bucky looked at Steve, “Can you take me to see my girls please?”

“Our girls,” Steve corrected, laughing, “Sorry, Buck. You’ve got to share.”

“Fine,” he sighed, “At least I get primary custody.”


	21. Chapter 21

It’s midnight in the hospital and you’re fast asleep thanks to some pain killers they gave you for your bruised ribs. Ribs you didn’t even know where bruised until after you were at the hospital. After Kaitlyn was safe and the adrenaline had worn off.

“Merry Christmas,” he murmured, kissing your forehead. He pulled you just a little closer when you whimper softly, hoping to chase the nightmares away before they had time to get started. Bucky knew he wasn’t gonna lose a wink of sleep over killing Rumlow and his gang. Not one. His girls had been in danger and he’d protected them. And that was all there was to it. You’d asked him how he’d done it. Bucky could still hear your quiet voice, worried for him. “I was a sniper, baby,” he answered, “One shot. One Kill.” He kissed your nose, “I had to protect my girls.”

“Bucky-” you murmur.

“One of us knowing what the inside of a person’s head looks like is enough,” he said gently, “That’s why I told you not to look.”

“Your shoulder,” you whimper touching it very carefully.

“Darlin’,” he chuckled, “It’s fine. Just fine. It’s gonna probably ache when it rains. And we better have all girls because I don’t think I can throw a football right anymore, but it’s fine. Small price to pay.”

You start tearing up and Bucky kisses you gently, “Please don’t cry, Princess,” he rumbles, “I know. It’s a lot. But you’re safe. Safe and sound okay? Kaity is safe. I’m okay. It’s all fine. All we lost is a truck. And that’s fine because detailing it after you gave birth in it would be a pain in the ass.”

You smack his arm gently and he chuckles, “It was my biggest fear,” he teases, kissing your nose, “But,” he concedes, “Kaity is cute so I guess I’ll keep her. Even if she ruined my upholstery.” You roll your eyes and you snuggled close, “I’m glad you’re not too broken up about it,” you say drily. 

“Never,” he says sincerely, tucking the blankets in tenderly. “My girls are safe. I’ve got a healthy mama and a healthy baby. That’s all I care about,” he soothes, rubbing the back of your neck to help you off to sleep. 

That conversation played in his head again as he watched the snowfall outside. He already knew his mom and sisters weren’t really happy about him telling them to stay home later today, but. He wanted the time with you. It was your first Christmas as a family and after the events yesterday, you needed rest. He needed rest. And Kaitlyn, well honestly he just didn’t want to share right now. He was in love with her. Very in love. He couldn’t believe he helped make someone so perfect. It amazed him and he couldn’t wait to get you both home to spoil you properly. 

Her fingers had curled around his index finger as he admired how small and smooth and sweet she was when they handed her to him for the first time and he was gone. He didn’t care in that moment, if no one ever believed he was a badass again as long as she never stopped holding his hand. He was a goner. He could see the glitter and giggles in his future and it was bright. It was perfect. 

_________

It doesn’t take long at all for Kaity to grow into a chubby, bright-eyed, happy baby. Always worn against your chest and cuddled when she cried, she went almost everywhere with you. She and Salem both came to the book store every day and both napped in the playpen in the backroom while you worked. 

Bucky came by every afternoon to feed you and get a baby snuggle in on his lunch break. Sometimes he brings you flowers. Sometimes you make love on the velvet fainting couch after he locks the front door and he makes sure Kaity is asleep. Its domestic bliss Bucky never thought was possible. He never knew being married and having a baby could feel good. He loves coming home to you and making dinner while he listens to you in the other room playing with Kaity or soothing her through the discomfort of getting her first teeth. He doesn’t even mind being slobbered on and sometimes he’s a little amazed at how easily he can tell the difference between a frustrated Kaity cry and a hungry one. 

He watches you feed her a bottle and smiles a little. She’s always happy to eat. And so adorably chubby. Growing like a weed, his ma said. “Bedtime, Kaity-cat,” you hum, rocking her gently over sleepy baby protests, “I know you want to stay up with Daddy and I but that’s just not going to happen, sweet pea. You need your sleep.” She tangles her little fist in your shirt and fusses unhappily, not ready to be put down, “I bet you,” you hum, that if you act really cute and extra sad, Daddy will tell you a story so mommy can have a hot bath.”

“Hmm,” Bucky chuckled, “You bet I will?”

“Please?” you pout prettily, kissing the top of Kaity’s head tenderly. You’ve been on baby duty all day, dealing with a feverish unhappy Kaity who’s not liking that her little mouth hurts with more teeth coming in. 

Your husband doesn’t need any more convincing than the look on your face. You might be playing, pouting like that but you look worn out. He knew Kaity had been on your chest all day fussing and upset. She hates being messy and she can’t stop drooling all over herself. And her mouth hurts, and nothing mama or daddy can do makes it feel better for long. She doesn’t want to be put down and even though she’s still small to Bucky, you’re small compared to him and having to carry her AND books or art supplies and whatever else all day up and down the shop ladders is exhausting.

He rolls his eyes but smiles at you, holding his hands out for his daughter, “Come’ ere, Lambchop” he chuckles, “Mama would win that bet in a hurry. I didn’t get to see my girls today at lunch and I missed you.” You hand him the baby with a grateful smile and steal a kiss on your way past that makes him pop you on the bottom lovingly and chuckle when you yelp. He knows that soon he won’t be able to do that in front of Kaity. She’s going to be too young to understand that kind of thing and what it means properly. And he’ll be damned if he isn’t a shining example of how a man should treat a woman he loves. He wants to do better than his dad. In the hospital, just before you brought her home. A day he probably would never forget, you had this moment of sheer existential panic. He knew now it was a mix of an anxiety attack and hormones, and just a bad brain day but hearing you tell him you couldn’t do this and it was a mistake at the time, had broken his heart. You’d cried so hard you could hardly breathe and made yourself sick. He’d pulled you into his lap and held you as tightly as he dared with your bruised ribs and rocked you, desperate to reassure you. To keep you. All he could think to tell you was,”Just do better than your ma,” he said, “That’s all I need. And you’re already doing it, baby. You’re sober and you’re scared enough to know this is gonna be hard. It’ll be okay.” And so you did. Mostly by doing the opposite of what your ma would have done. Logic Bucky couldn’t really fault and decided to apply himself. His dad had been hard. To him. To his sisters. To his ma. And that had been when he’d been there at all. So, as he carried his daughter, now happily gumming a teething toy and slobbering on his shoulder, up the stairs to talk her to sleep, it felt right.

“Did I ever tell you how I met your ma?” he hummed, settling himself in the rocking chair, “Huh, Lambchop?” Big blue eyes stare up at him in rapt fascination and he chuckles, “I think I did, last week but uh, it’s the only story I can think about right now that you’re old enough for. Your ma would be furious at me if I told you about the time Uncle Clint- well. Just know Uncle Clint was very embarrassed and your ma looked real good. Still looks good. But this was right before I knew about you, darlin’.”

“See,” he rumbled, kissing her head when she yawned, “I knew your ma was the prettiest girl in the whole world from the second I got a look at her.” Kaity fusses at him and he chuckles, “This was 21 years ago almost. Long before you took that crown. Your ma’s not just pretty anymore. She’s beautiful. And she gets more beautiful the longer you look at her. See, some girls, they’re gorgeous. Right when you first look at ‘em. Hit you in the eye and you can’t look away. But that’s all they got is pretty. Your ma, well. The longer you look at her the more there is. And the prettier she gets. She snatches your heart right out and you can’t even care because. Damned if she ain’t take good care of it once she has it. You’ll be a lady like that,” he tells her grinning, “Don’t worry. Your ma’ll teach you right.”

She gums her toy and wiggles for him to move her so she can drool on his dry shoulder for a minute. Fussing because she’s getting slobber covered and irritated. 

He shifts her over and rubs her back soothingly, “I was only 5 years old,” he rumbles. And I thought I was hot shit see. I had on some new power rangers shoes and I was gonna kick ass at some tag later. But when your ma waltzed in with some overalls and a white t-shirt and a big blue hair bow, I didn’t want to play tag no more. I wanted this little girl to be my best friend. She just had to talk to me. That first day was a killer. She was so shy she wouldn’t really even look at me.” Kaity coos at him and he chuckles, “I know. Now she won’t stop givin’ me lip. I love it, but don’t you dare tell her.”

“I worked on it all day. She ain’t say nothing to nobody. Wouldn’t even answer the teacher is she couldn’t nod or shake her head. But I kept talkin’. Talked to her so much Miss Price damn near made me sit in the hall the first day. I think I irritated your ma half to death. My verbal diarrhea just ain’t quit though. Finally, it worked. Come about the end of the day, right after nap time, your ma is coloring a picture at the table. So damn tiny and cute her feet don’t even touch the floor right in her chair. And I come up and start chattering at her. Tellin her the names of all the crayons, thinking I’m cool because I know my colors. And she just looks at me. Calm as anything and says, “Bucky, Shut up.”

“I was so damn shocked she could actually talk I ain’t even care what she said. I hugged her and kissed her on the cheek and Miss Price wrote a note home to my ma. But I ain’t even care about the spankin’. She talked and she was gonna be my new best friend. I shoulda known then I was in deep but, I think I got the better end of the deal to be honest.”

He rubbed her back and kissed her head tenderly, laying her carefully in her crib, “Sleep tight Lambchop,” he chuckled, tucking her in. He watched her sleep for just a moment and smiled. She really did get your nose after all.


End file.
